The Greenlake Girls
by violingirl101
Summary: Lou Walker is Camp Greenlake's warden. Now she's someone else entirely, facing the fact that friendship can mean everything, and she's trying to glue the world back together. Maybe, to Kate and Linda, she's not to evil after all. -HIATUS. DON'T READ.-
1. Prologue

**a/n: This is it, my first story. It will be long, weird, but it is original. So please, people staring at a computer screen and reading, read and behold my weird story:  


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_**The Greenlake Girls  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Kate, Lou, Linda, or any of the other original characters from the book or movie. I do own characters like Rosie, and others NOT from the book or movie**_** Holes**.  
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_Lou Walker's POV_

When I arrived at Greenlake, Texas the second time, I dropped my bags and thought I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. I looked around at the dead town, feeling so alone, when really, I never was. And I never _had _made a mistake, when I left my grandpa, or started Camp Greenlake, or got arrested, or bought my family's land back from Girlscouts. If those were mistakes, I wouldn't have Kate and Linda.

When I arrived at Greenlake, everything changed, and my life would never be the same again.

I am Lou Walker, and I will tell you something never before told. Do what I did. Believe, and listen.

This is my story.


	2. Treasure Hunt

**Author's Note: OKAY! This is the next chaptie, written mostly in the P.O.V of Linda, the wife of the evil Trout Walker. (I felt I had to tell you that because a lot of people forget who she is. Linda is first found on page 121 in **_**Holes**_**.) Here we go! (Oh, yeah! So you all don't give me confused comments: Kate isn't **_**exactly **_**described here like how she was in the movie. Still kinda the same; like blonde hair and blue eyes.)**

**LINDA'S POV**

I watched as a withered red carnation from my sunhat gently dropped to the cracked ground, looking as sad and dried as everything else in this droughty hole.

Trout's nauseating voice broke the silence. "There she is," he growled, dropping my dusty binoculars. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. I looked through the lenses.

I saw a face I'd recognize anywhere. The beautiful, grieving face of Kate Barlow. Her big, crystal blue eyes where looking away from my husband and I, staring at the vast nowhere through long lashes. I could feel the binoculars pressing against my eyes; barely fogging up from teardrops; each a memory falling from my eyes.

Then I said, as softly and privately as I could, "_Miss Katherine._"

Trout grabbed my wrists and continued to drag me along. "You're staring at nothin'." He pointed at Kate. "_That's _nothing."

I looked at Trout's face and solemnly nodded, as if his words made sense. "Okay," I said dumbly.

Through the haze I made out a lump; made of rusted nails and slats of light pine.

My eyes drew wide. It was a boat. An overturned boat. But that wasn't what caught my attention. On the side, painted on with neat, pale green paint, was two familiar, heartbreaking words. _Mary Lou_.

Kate was casually leaning against the boat, again staring sorrowfully across the vast, empty, desert. But her eyes were filled with more than just sorrow. When I stared at her long enough, I realized she was gazing lovingly at the sandy lakebed. She saw Sam.

I rubbed the hazy fog from my eyes and walked briskly, but still aware not to walk alongside Trout.

Then I found that I was only about thirteen feet away from the outlaw. The beating sun reflected her radiance, nearly as strong as when we were younger; reading poems and picking small red wildflowers off the lake's shore.

My heart began to beat wildly inside my chest as Trout picked up his rifle, slowly cocking it. Kate's head turned sideways a bit, so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

My throat tightened, straining each breath. _Oh, no,_ I thought. _he's going to shoot her._

But Trout just stood there, and with enough volume to send my poor little heart shooting up my throat he screamed: "You've got five seconds to tell me where you've buried your loot!"

Five seconds. He'd kill her in five seconds.

Five seconds ticked by, and I was still standing completely still, frozen stiff.

Kate tossed her head around like a rearing mustang, rolling her eyes in what seemed like complete aggregation. Then she snapped out a gleaming six-shooter and pointed it right in the middle of me and my husband. I inhaled quickly and paced nervously to the side; to see who she was _really _aiming for. I stared at the gun.

Trout.

Then, for what seemed a very slow process to me, Trout and Kate argued over the treasure; which Kate claimed didn't exist. I spoke when Trout paused; glaring at me with icy eyes. I sounded shaken and pitiful; stuttering over every other word and flipping from falsely confident to frightened facial expressions.

At first, when I heard Kate's words, "_start digging, Trout,_" I stared at Trout for any readable look; angered, maybe. But he had a horrid look on his face; like I'd never seen before. I turned, slowly, to Kate.

She had a wriggling yellow spotted lizard in her hand; lowering it to her wrist…

"_No!_" I whispered. She couldn't hear me. She needed to hear me. "NO!" I screamed, holding my tangling stomach in agony. "No!"

I didn't care what Trout thought about her; anyone, for that matter. I didn't care what any of those people, greedy enough to murder for money, thought about Kate. She was my teacher. She cared about Becca Tennyson and helped her feel tall when others called her short. She loved in a town of hatred. She loved Sam. And me. All the children. She robbed. She murdered. But I couldn't see her die.

The lizard bit into her tiny, now-pale arm. She gasped in spasms of pain, but, still she laughed. Her laugh was cracked and small. She opened her big blue eyes, staring up into the cloudless sky. But she didn't see the same as me. She saw heaven.

I sobbed into my hands, feeling that my ribs were cracking. I felt a sudden pang of anger. She was leaving me here. With Trout. To dig; break my back and feel pain for the rest of my life. My baby; sweet Hazel would dig, too. And her child.

I sniffled up the water and looked through my tear strained eyes.

She was dead.

I held my mouth, looking at Trout. What I saw, I couldn't believe. Not even before could I have pictured this in my mind: Trout Walker was crying.

"Don't look at me," I growled, a threatening warning.

"She buried it. She left us to find it," more tears filled his cold eyes as he glared at her. "I hate her."

I took a breath and looked at him. "No."

"No?" he spat. "No, you don't hate her?"

Well, no to that too. I took a daring breath. "No. You're crying. You love her."

He looked up to the sky for a moment with wild eyes, as if he was considering it. Then, he veered back and slapped me across the face.

Pain streaked across my cheeks. I jumped back in surprise.

He was about to do something else; who knows what; when a shovel slammed into his head. Trout's eyes rolled back and he fell forward, unconscious.

I was so surprise I couldn't think straight for a moment. Then I realized; someone had to have been holding the shovel.

I looked up to a crooked smile across a pretty face.

"Kate!"

**Um… Uh… DUH, DUH, DUH! Sorry, the end of that chapter was so wild and confusing. Please review! (There's more to come!)**


	3. Sam's Oasis

**Author's Note: Whew! That was a weird chapter! Anyways, this one's mostly written in normal P.O.V. Since I'm pinning down chapters so fast and this is such a new Fanfic; I still don't have any reviews. If you're reading this right now; hang on with me! I'm actually thinking about dragging Stanley Yelnats and Hector into the story farther along. But I think the Warden's coming in the next chapter-oonie. (Oh, and see! I'm making Linda such a star and she wasn't even on the main character's list.)**

Linda stared at Kate with wide eyes. She slowly unraveled her clenched fist, reaching nervously to Kate's cheek.

_She's not real,_ Linda thought persistently_, she's dead! Dead! And I'm going insane…_

_Dead. Dead. Dead._

Linda's fingers barely touched Kate's cheek. Solid.

"You're alive," she whispered, stunned.

Kate again flashed a crooked smile. "Do you want me to be?"

"Alive?" Linda said.

"Yes," Kate replied, raising her eyebrows, making it seem as such an easy question to answer.

"Yes," Linda said. That was all she could say. "Yes."

Kate squinted, looking up into the sky.

"What?" Linda said. The silence made her feel anxious and uneasy. She still had questions to ask.

"Come on," Kate said, her fingers constricting around Linda's arm.

"Where?" Linda said. Both the girls sounded so confused; speaking only and near to only single words. "Where _can _we go?" Her hand flew up, presenting before them the vast desert.

"Up there, to the mountain," Kate nodded to a formation through the haze. Her hand was up, but she wasn't pointing. She was showing a plain "thumbs-up"; the shape of the mountain.

Linda held up Kate's hand to the thumb-formation. "You're right," she said shakily. "But _why_ do you want to go there?" Looking into Kate's wild, almost ravenous eyes, she felt as if she was speaking to a curious two-year-old.

"It's Sam's Mountain. There's onions there; as pure and sweet as when we were young. The water flows up-hill," she repeated the glorious word: "water".

Linda and Kate exchanged glances and began to walk. Linda took small, unwilling steps that quickened to a jolt to try to keep up with Kate's long strides.

***LATER***

Tumbleweeds flowed, scraping their dead fingers along the dry ground. Sand swirled along the horizon, slapping across the girls' faces and dusting the lace below their skirts. The sound of boot heels clicking with every step slowed as the mountain's base was reached.

Linda sniffled and wiped her nose. "It's big." "Umm hmmm…" Kate said as she grasped a rock, pulling herself up a step.

Linda watched her, not sure whether or not to climb, too. She sighed and followed, clumsily slipping and sliding along the rugged terrain.

After a long while of climbing, disabled from bloody, scraped hands, Kate and Linda pulled themselves up to a flat ledge.

Linda thought for a while, thoughts swirling around in her mind like a tornado. Finally she held on to one, waiting for the right time. She cleared her throat, catching Kate's attention.

"H-how did you live?" Linda stuttered. "I mean, for years and years Greenlake gold minors have come back dead due to yellow spotted lizard bites. It's happened plenty of times and not a single one of them lived. I saw you; I watched you get bit. And you're still alive." Linda's face flushed and she peered down at the floral pattern on her dress. "I mean, not that I don't want you to be…

"Kate?" She heard no reply. The outlaw's face was grim, looking again at the sky. Her shoulders raised to a shrug. That was the answer.

Linda looked at her in curiously when her serious face turned a different mood. Her eyes squinted, looking around for something. She leaned up, now tossing her head in all directions.

"Wha-" Linda said. Kate hissed, holding her finger to her mouth.

"Water," she whispered.

Linda stopped, listening. She, too, heard water.

Kate stood, grabbing Linda's hand and pulling her up.

Through the middle of two leaning boulders, they saw water treading in a long, pure blue stream. Little white flowers --the tops of onions-- grew in a meadow along the banks. There, like when Linda was small, running with her teacher, Miss Katherine, the two girls ran, side by side, laughing, to Sam's old oasis.

**Huh. Okay, I'll keep working. Bye, peoples!**


	4. Meet Lou

**Author's Note: LeMoNsOuR, THANK YOU, LIKE, 1 MILLION TIMES!!! YOUR ARE SOOOO COOL AND I LOVE YOUR STORIES!!! *gasping for breaths* Okay, this is my official first Fanfic, so I'm kind of obsessed with checking if I have reviews and leaving author's notes. My first story on my old account was called "D-Tent Girl". (I know, original, huh? : ) Anyway, I got a good review from a nice person and a bad review that was so darn bad I deleted my account and the story.**

**Now, wasn't that happy? On to this incredibly short chapter!**

**100 YEARS LATER**

**WARDEN'S POV**

_I rolled on my side, sniffed, and buried my head in pillows._

_A melancholy howl whistled down the dusty remains of Main Street, a soft wind blowing along each curtain and raising it up like a hovering phantom._

_I opened one eye and watched them dance gracefully around each other, glowing from the moonlight and whispy from the torn silk edges._

_My eyes became droopy, lulled by the sheet of white over a navy background of stars and silhouetted buildings…_

_Until I saw it. A shadow came up over the windowsill, small and figured._

_I screamed, falling over from the bed wrapped in sheets. My hand slammed into the radio, activating blaring Mexican music._

This is the story of last night.

A rather exciting addition of the sad, small daily life of Lou Walker. But this unexciting life is about to take a jump.

**I'm bored; so I'll have more. This is just a start to the real story.**


	5. My Secret, Evil Plan

**Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, my brain has been busy. Here's the start of Lou/Warden's POV; she was fined greatly, put in prison for three months and is now currently once again owning her family's land after it was sold by Silverwood Girl Scouts Camp for poisonous lizard overpopulation. (Hee, hee.)**

_**Lou/Warden's POV**_

I felt a bone in my twittering heel pop uncomfortably as I backed up a couple of paces. Black eyes met mine, locking as they were. I swallowed, blindly attempting to scoot past the rattler.

I was normally at ease with the creature, walking straight past it as it hissed with a serenade of musical rattles. I even make cosmetics out of it. But _this_… it didn't rattle, just hissed. It's practically cornering me.

I smiled at it, firstly attempting to make friends with it, making it feel special, like a character in a Disney movie. Its beady Mr. Sir eyes stayed secure on me as I made an escape.

It snapped at my right ankle.

"HOLY…"

There's a rabid rattlesnake on the loose. I hope it kills me.

Oh, Geez…

~~~~~~~~~~~~_Later~~~~~~~~~~  
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I was still running dumbly when I reached the stone steps to the front porch. It was then I realized that I was not being chased, and never was being chased.

I curled my hair at random like a teenage girl, and sat down in the plush computer seat. Plush, but ready to fall apart.

I waited as the old Dell computer woke up from hibernation, its buttons and keys flashing, awakening one by one from a deep sleep. Normally, I would be bashing the monitor with the mouse, but I felt patient today. Manual words popped up, scaring the crap out of me as usual, and playing a sweet, blaring loud tune.

NATE WELCOMES YOU.

I named it Nate; the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth letters in "hibernate". I'm smart.

The Google talk chat room came up automatically, and I exited it. I hadn't been on it for ages, my chatting status still set to: "_I, Lou, am in a deep coma. Don't ask questions, I don't want to chat with you and could have already died anyway."  
_  
I yawned slowly, running my fingers down the keyboard. The quote of the day was printed in my inbox: "Treasure is all around you, waiting to be found."

Meh. It means I do not care, and also by the Urban Dictionary's website, a phrase used by young or baby dragons when they are in need of something. Meh. Don't care again.

The treasure is gone, Stanley is gone, and I'm stuck here, rotting in a hole. There's no more treasure. There's no more hope. And there's no more sanity in my brain; I'm staring at a computer musing randomly to myself.

I'm not in a mansion, they are. I barely have a cent to my name, and they have millions.

They have a secret. They found the treasure; knew exactly where it was. Just after they climbed that mountain…

That mountain.

A smile brimmed at the edges of my mouth, just as I was about to reveal my secret and evil plan to my brain.


	6. Bad Omen Or Destiny?

**Author's Note: What am I supposed to say here? After this chapter, I'm not putting, "So-and-so's POV". It's just Lou's POV.**

**LOU'S P.O.V.**

"I've lost my mind."Those were the four syllables I said as shut Nate down, making him promise not to hibernate again, and stepped out into the sun, closing the door behind me.

_I'm the one who thought of this plan. It's gonna work, too, _my brain told me. "Freak." _Freak? I'm not the one who watched Mary Poppins last Friday as she mowed through "comfort food"._Sometimes I think my brain has a little bit of Grandpa in it, the part that I have absolutely no control over.

"You can't think of algebra 3. You're not going to think up some master plan."

While searching for my car keys lodged behind a stone on my front porch, I noticed a sign hanging crooked near the door, a message painted over the "Warden's Cabin: Disturb and Die" sign.

_Come on in! Mrs. Salsbury's Cabin._The creepy Girl Scout's leader was destroying my home. Maybe next I'm going to find duck-shaped soaps and small crocheted rugs draping over the toilet in the spare bathroom. I might have to check.

I yanked it down from the loose nail and tossed it under the porch, stepping back down with the silver keys jangling from my fingertips, an old Seaworld key chain slapping against my hand. I'm going to get in the car, drive, get out of the car, climb a mountain, find something, throw it down, rejoice, and drive back.

That is the secret evil plan.

I felt the polished leather sink under the weight of my boots as I slung my foot into the front seat. I smelled the light, musky scent twist through my nostrils as it roared to life, the engine purring sweetly, welcoming me back from our separation.

I'm in love with my car.

Dust sliced through the air as the wheels revolved quickly, moving me down the dirt road. I slowed to the sea of holes, letting the 1957 Chrysler drift along. I still remembered the many times I'd taken this route before, but the memories didn't flush back soon enough in some places, I slammed into the reverse push button several times to save myself from falling into a hole.

The incessant zigzagging soon turned to smooth driving; I sailed across the vacant dessert sand until I started to get too carried away. I got carried away in the emptyness, the freedom of driving to my heart's desire, so fast and exhilarated… so I didn't see the thing.

The thing; the lightly-colored wooden thing that was probably my brain punishing me for calling it a freak. I kept on driving, singing, "Our Song", not sounding like Taylor Swift, and keeping alert for mountains coming over the horizon.

And, sure enough, there was a mountain, rising over the haze, its dark brown form plastered at the shape of a thumb. You don't see that every day…

The surface of the ground began to get rocky from fallen pebbles and stones as I pulled up to the base. It was steep, perilous; not anything those two blubbering D-tent idiots could ever manage. But still I knew they did it, they got up there; and so did Stanley the something-th, after he was robbed by Kissin' Kate Barlow, called it "God's Thumb", or whatever Carveman said… "God's Thumb". That explains the freakish thumb thing at the top. Robbed by Kissin' Kate Barlow… that explains the treasure with "Stanley Yelnats" imprinted on it…

Yep… Explains it all…

And I want to bash them all on the heads with bowling balls; especially Caveboy and the amazing lipstick bandit lady.

That anger was all I needed to climb up a few boulders. And a couple more.

What was _wrong_ with that woman? What kind of freak kisses dead courpses? Who buries perfectly fine money out in the desert, millions of dollors, and kills herself with a lizard? An _insane_ woman, that's all. Just _insane_.

I asked Grandpa about her once.

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_The living room had been dead silent, expect for the clanging of my shovel as I set it against the stone fireplace, and the sound of Grandpa's newspaper crackling as he turned a page._

_I moved to the other side of the room, heading under the kitchen's doorway to fix myself a glass of black cherry Kool-Aid. I stopped, wiping my nose with my sleeve, and peered at the collection of Kissin Kate Barlow wanted posters, and Greenlake Register articles titled in bold black letters: "KISSIN KATE BARLOW ROBS CHICAGO PACIFIC, BANDITS DYNIMITE RAILROAD"._

_I put my weight on one leg, relaxing my shoulders as I read the articles. The wanted poster portrayed a fierce woman, long hair streaking over her shoulders in the wind, small frame wearing a brown leather tie-top with a rifle slung over her back._

_"Grandpa," I said quietly, "what was she like?" My grandfather lifted up his scraggly head, setting down the paper and huffing in annoyance. I knew he had met her, she'd lived here once. "Wasn't she the schoolteacher?"_

_"Yup." He licked his lips in a discusting fashion, watching me out of the corner of his eye. I automatically straightened myself. "An ugly old thing."_

_"She doesn't look ugly," I said, whispering, frightened about doubting him. "On the wanted poster, I mean."_

_"They just put it like that so more men would set out to 'git her."_

_"Oh." I had more curious questions stuck in my brain, but Grandpa was already back at reading the Austin newspaper._

_I turned back around, and before going to the kitchen, read one last article, and the small post title coming after it:_

_KISSIN KATE BARLOW CLAIMED DEAD, BODY NEVER FOUND_

_LINDA WALKER, WIFE OF CHARLES WALKER, MISSING IN ACTION SAME DAY_

_That article was the one that troubled my thoughts the most, the one I wanted to ask about, but it was already on the ground, where Grandpa never wanted anyone to see it._

* * *

When I pulled myself up onto a cliff, both hands were numb and caked with partially dried blood, a long scratch lining my index finger, and my legs were so weak I almost couldn't feel the tenseness in my muscles, but they felt heavy under me.

For a moment, it was like I'd ended up in random place, from say, destiny, and might soon find what I've been looking for, but I mostly felt it was a bad omen.

I shook my head and swatted away a swarm of increasingly annoying bugs.

…Bugs?

I scooted back, heaving myself up off the trail to see almost a field of little white flowers and cool water running uphill.

Just as I was uprooting an onion I tripped and flew completely backward, away from my discovery.

Yup, a bad omen.

I tumbled down the hill and practically landed on my side and my head at the same time. Destiny hurts.

I rubbed my head. It had bumped on something hard. A rock, probably. I lifted it. Maybe I just cracked it open and am at the moment slowly dying.

There, to my surprise, was a pair of boots, two actually. Someone, or two people, where in front of me. My heart started to franticly beat and I felt a little frightened, which I never am, of course.

But, I realized, the boots were old fashioned and smaller than mine, like a woman's from the past. I glanced up farther and saw a holster.

With a pistol in it. What the…?

I got up and looked both of them over. They were two women, both shorter than me. The one in front of me, with a gun, may I add, was blonde-haired, wearing a tattered leather jacket and a soft cotton pink skirt.

The other one was wearing a dress, a sunhat with dried flowers, and looked almost exactly like _me_. The red hair, the freckles, the whole shebang.

Wow: the mountaintop welcoming committee has appeared.

"Who are you people?"

One smiled. One looked like she could murder me right there.

"Are you _insane_? Can you even hear me?"

It's the ghosts of Katherine Barlow and Linda Walker, come to haunt me for trying to kill little boys and saying naughty words.

The midgets were hovering over me, studing me.

"Well, then. You both obviously have something very wrong with you. I'll take it slowly.

"Hi… What. Is. Your. Name?"

The redhead gave me a stupid, almost fake smile, and said "Linda!"

The other one, softly, said, "Katherine." I think I liked her better. She fits my custom rule: "Every one, shut up."

But then: Katherine _Barlow_. I thought curiously. But that's impossible. Katherine Barlow was bit by a yellow spotted lizard. And if you're bit by a yellow spotted lizard, you die a slow and painful death. Always.


	7. Decisions

**Author's Notes: If you are at the moment reading this story; take reviewing what I have so far under consideration. Every view and thought counts! :) Thank you!**

They were both noticeably skinny.

Linda's thin arms were bony, and her face was slightly sunken in, but otherwise, she only seemed like one of those weight-fidgety teens watching their waistline.

But _Katherine_; her ribs stuck out underneath her jacket, and her skirt, as small as the size seemed, was ready to fall off. Her blue eyes were ravenous.

As unsettling as the thought of inviting two complete strangers into my home was, they seemed good company; and as far as it went we all had problems in the past and expectancy for insanity in the future; I could tell.

I was unsure about what they thought about my plan; I sat on a boulder as they discussed hushly around the corner. Then the thought came to my mind:

What _am _I doing here?

My ears concentrated on the _pit-r pat-r _of my boot heals as I snuck quietly to the rock slab Katherine and Linda hid behind, squatting so I could hear their voices and see to the other side from a wide crack in the stone. Next I used my super eavesdropping skills to listen:

"I really think we --or at least _I--_ need to get a life and go with her." Linda.

"I? I knew you'd leave me. Everyone I've ever met except _Sam _has done that some time or another," Katherine snapped. Her voice lowered. "He's gone; you can leave, too. I'll stay here if that makes you happy."

Linda paused, letting the words spill around her. "I'd never leave you - not after this. You're my best friend. I only think, y'know, starting a new life would be best for us." She grinned crookedly, her eyes comforting.

Cheesy; but interesting. Very interesting.

Katherine ran her fingers through her long blond hair, taking in the silence. My hand clasped to a rock shard as I waited impatiently. Linda stared with hopeful eyes. I itched my nose. Katherine sneezed. Linda's head began to bob.

Just about five years later: Katherine whispered a simple, "fine."

Linda nodded limply, rounding the side of the boulder. "Lou-u!" her voice snapped, as if she was unsure that was still my name.

I scooted back, stumbling to my feet as I ran back to my seat on the rock.

"Just me... here... sittin' on a rock..." I smiled.

"Yes!" Linda said.

"Yes?"

"Yes!"

I groaned convincingly as I removed my butt from the rock, pulling the keys from the back pocket of my jeans.

"What are those?" Linda questioned curiously, fiddling with the seaworld keychain.

"Whales," I said, furrowing my eyebrows.

"No; what are those keys to?"

I grabbed the small, golden key, waving it in the air. "This one is to the house, the silver one is to the back porch, if I happen to lock it, and the big bronze one is to the car." I pushed a button, listening to the vague beeping noise below.

"The _car_?" Katherine said dumbly.

"The car." I shrugged.

As I slipped down to the next narrow ledge, I saw Katherine -_whispering_- to the deep pocket on the side of her jacket.

I raised an eyebrow. "Talking to your shirt?"

"No!" Linda snapped quickly.

_Weirdos._

**There was the chapter that I had to go ahead and get over with. I couldn't find any ideas for it, so it was short, and kind of the part where the "discoveries" decide to go with ol' Lou here. **


	8. The Truth is Revealed at Midnight

**Author's Note: Uh… Hi!**

With a long, careful stroke, another nail was painted dark red.

The lights in the bathroom were dim, and the world outside was dark , the sky cloudless and speckled with twinkling stars. Katherine and Linda were asleep in the spare bedroom, --my grandpa's old room-- leaving me the only moving soul in the house. Tiny drops of loose water splashed into the bathtub, and the smell of juniper bubble bath hung in the air. Except for the quiet _drip-drips_, everything around me seemed dead.

I sat on the white porcelain rim, shifting back and forth in turquoise flannel pajamas as I painted my nails. My feet relaxed on the soft rug, and my muscles weren't as nearly as tensed as beforehand since I had taken a hot bath. Beforehand when two strangers were added to my life.

Suddenly, an old floorboard cracked outside of the room. I set erect, concentrating on the darkness spilling out of the ajar door, waiting to hear another chirr in the silent night. I knew there were people here besides me; but Katherine and Linda were completely asleep as far as I knew.

_Creea-aa-k… _I lifted myself to the point of standing, tip-toeing silently to the door. I slipped through the crevice, my feet meeting polished wood. My heart thumped slowly and forcefully inside my chest. I crept forward, eyes wide, taking baby steps.

As my eyes fixed in the black, I saw a drapery of gold, a glint of cerulean. My shoulders relaxed. "Katherine?" I whispered, slowly, across to the further wall.

"Yes?" she drawled, her southern accent awakening the room.

"Oh," I replied quietly. I inched forward, meeting her face-to-face. She blinked, the side of her mouth curling into a smirk, eyes switching back and fourth. "What are you doing?"

The question sat for a moment, and her nose crumpled, and her eyes switched down.

"I didn't know you were awake." I raised my eyebrows. "I was thinking, I suppose, that I need to talk to you."

"I was taking a bath," I said. "You need to talk to me?"

"Yes," she said again.

I lowered myself to the couch, watching her as I did so. Her eyes locked with mine. "Talk to me." She stood straight, then sat next to me. She put her hands in her lap, legs playing with the end of her white nightgown.

"If Linda and I will be staying here for a while… well… I've decided…. Let's put it like this… I need to tell you something."

"Katherine," I interrupted, "you're sorta scaring me."

She smiled gently. "It's just things you need to know if you're going to know me. Things you _have _to know." I wriggled uncomfortably as she continued. "And… you can call me Kate. Just… Kate. Linda calls me Kate… and Katherine's just…" she paused thoughtfully. "Call me Kate. Anyhow…"

"The things I need to know," I finished.

"Yes. To start with: What do you see when you look at me?"

I considered the question; considered how open of a question it was. _"What do you see when you look at me?" _Really; I wasn't sure what she meant. I didn't know whether she wanted me to describe her, mirror her looks, or to be more in-depth, what thoughts came across my mind when I saw her. I began with looks.

"I see big blue eyes. I see long blonde hair. You seem to like western clothing. You wear…" The last thing I described was something I had just noticed. "…lipstick."

"Who else do you know that wears lipstick?"

"Me?" I say, puzzled.

"No; _lots_ of lipstick."

"Women who wears lots of makeup. People who want _really _red lips."

"One person. One person from the past. One famous person. You should know her."

The descriptions etched into my head. Then, suddenly, my eyes focused to something else; past Kate. The wanted posters lining the wall. The Kissin' Kate Barlow wanted posters.

"Kate Barlow? _Kissin' _Kate Barlow?" I guessed.

"Bingo."

"I'm right?" I say.

"So you know her?" Kate seemed like she was getting where she wanted to be. I still was confused. Kate was talking about Kissin' Kate… Then the interesting part caught in my brain. Two women with lipstick named Kate. _We-ird._

"Yes, I know her. Well, not personally, of course. My grandpa used to know her…"

"And what was your grandfather's name?"

"Charles, Charlie, Trout… Take your pick. Walker."

"What did he tell you about her?"

"She was ugly?" When I said this, Kate's face turned to a sneer. A scary sneer. I scooted over slightly.

"She was ugly?" Kate repeated.

"Where are we going with this?" I asked. First, she needs to tell me some life-changing thing in the middle of the night, then she asks me to describe her, (which can be a disturbing game to play, thank you very much) and then starts talking about Kate Barlow. Kate Barlow, that woman who buried the treasure I had dug for, the treasure I'd seen my grandpa dig for for forty-so years.

I stared at her blankly, gazing into her eyes. She hadn't responded, and was leaving me to think it all out; like making me confused was the point of it all.

"_What_?" I snap loudly. I hear stirring in the guestroom, but I ignore it. I'm confused, I'm frustrated.

"Kissin' Kate Barlow."

"WHAT? Yes, Kissin' Kate Barlow. Do you like her or something? What do you need to tell me?" Just then, Linda bursts through the door, a wild look in her eyes. I begin to stand up, but Kate is set on getting this conversation where it needs to be.

"Kissin Kate Barlow. So what? So you like her? What does she…"

Kate stares at me with wide eyes. "No! I _am _her!"

"_No!_" Linda screams from behind me.

I _am _her!

I _am _her!

I _am _her!

I _am _her!

I _am _her!

I _am _Kissin Kate Barlow!

That's when I fall backwards.

The couch falls backwards with me, and with a squeal, Kate jumps to her feet. My head jerks up, and I see Linda stomping across the room.

"KATE!" she growled. There's no more need for whispers, for the whole house was awake. But all this seems like is a dream.

"Did you hear her?" I say. Everything becomes silent. "Did you hear her say, 'I'm Kissin' Kate Barlow'?" Kate and I are both cornering Linda, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," Linda said.

"…and?" I say.

"She is.

" I flail my hands, pursing my lips and glaring at Linda. "Great. Just… great. So now who are you; the Tooth Fairy? Can I be Cinderella?"

Linda's head hangs, and she's fussing with the tee-shirt I gave her. "_No_. What's it going to take for you to believe me?" She glanced up.

"Well, then who are you? _Really_?"

"Linda."

"Linda who?"

"Linda Walker." I stop. My heart stops. Everything stops. Anyone could act like Kate Barlow. But not anyone could imitate my grandma. Not everyone knew her name. Not everyone looks like me.

"That's my grandma's name," I whisper.

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

I pause. "How?" I whimper. "Are you a ghost?"

"No."

"Then _how _are you Linda Walker, and _how _are you Kate Barlow?"

"Onions." Sweetness and light dappled Linda's voice, as if she were imagining sometime wonderful. "A person can live up to two hundred years if he eats nothing but raw onions."

"What?"

"That's what I thought at first. But that's what we had to eat up there; a hundred years ago."

"And if _you _are Kate Barlow, then why didn't you die from a lizard bite?" I ask, turning to Kate.

"How would I know?" Kate said.

"If you get bitten by a yellow-spotted lizard… you die. Always."

"And who said that?" she said. With that, she rolled up her right sleeve, revealing two dark streaks --odd scars-- on her wrist. Two perfect bite marks engraved in her skin. "That look like a lizard bite to you?"

I let out a small gasp, my foot swinging back to catch me. It _was _a lizard bite. They stand next to each other, watching me.

"What else do you need for proof?" Kate asks. "Anything. Just ask. Only something Kate Barlow would know."

I knew something perfect; something only me, the D-Tent boys, and Kate Barlow would know. "What did you bury in the same hole as your treasure, _Kate?"_

"A gold lipstick tube, with KB on it in a perfect heart. It was part of a set." She smiled, a smile that stretched across her face. A smile of victory. Kate Barlow smiled.


	9. Rosie

**a/n: YES! ANOTHER REVIEW! *Smiles* See how happy it makes me when you review? On to the next chapter!**

"Good morning, sunshine!" My eyes fluttered open to reveal a white burst of sun sprawling through the window. A red-headed figure was dashing about my room, straightening things and readying for morning. I ducked under the pillows.

"Linda?" I groaned, barely audible.

I heard a wad of clothing fall to the floor and she scampered to the foot of my bed, her long red hair carelessly pinned up and her freckled face tinted green.

"She's aw-a-ake!" she sung to nobody in particular.

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP, MISS SUNSHINE?" came a voice from the guest room. Apparently Linda gave the morning welcoming to other members of the house, too.

My ears settled on a pair of boot heels clicking on the floor, and sure enough, Kate came in. Her hair was brushed to a series of long, gentle blond waves, and she wore a fine blue dress, black lace lining just above her slender legs and small brown boots. Hanging down her back was a cream-colored cowboy hat, a simple kite feather stuck into it. Her narrowed eyes fixed on Linda.

The room was silent for just a moment until: "Oh, oh, oh! My face is green, that right? Well yeah, there was this green stuff, and it's sooo moisturizing, and my face is sooo soft, now!" She was practically bouncing up and down with anticipation, making me wonder where the mellowness in the Walker family line came from.

"Why, yes," I say. "That would be my avocado face mask, that nobody in the entire house except for _me _is aloud to touch." I smirked, watching happy Linda's face fall. "Now; I tell you the basic house rules, and you tell me… anything else. Got it?"

Kate and Linda nodded quickly as I began: "You get to use the outside hammock, but when I want it, I get it. We won't get a dog. Or a cat. Or a gerbil… No playing… whatever you do… in my room. No boys. I'm the boss, and I don't care how much older than me you are. Talk about the treasure, and I'll slap you. If your name is Kate Barlow and you talk about the treasure, I will rip your skin off right there.

"I know this is a practically free country, but this is not a free house. If I ask you a question, you answer. Correct?" Kate chose that time to pipe up, blurting: "it says, in the Fifth Amendment in the Constitution, that we have a right to remain silent."

"Not a free house," I remind her.

I have gotten out of bed, and we have drifted to the door, beside the fireplace. The lace curtains from the window flutter, tickling my cheek. "Come on, let's go on out to the porch," Kate says. Reluctantly, Linda and I trail outside, but are dumbstruck to find the arrangements on the porch. There is an old oak table pulled next to the porch swing, creating a seat for one, and two other wooden chairs with striped cushions have been pulled up on the other sides. A red checkers cloth is spread out under crystal bud vases filled with herbs and Texas bluebonnets, glasses of raspberry iced tea. White cloth napkins are folded perfectly next to china plates of cheese, slices of peaches, and crackers. The landscape on the tableside rather than the desert scene of the opposite side is a rather comforting bundle of leafy trees, sandy hills, tiny white wildflowers and long patches of dark green grass. It's all lovely.

"_Wow," _I see Linda mouth. Kate smiles victoriously as she pulls out chairs for the redhead and herself, leaving me with the porch swing.

I sit, crossing my hands in my lap delicately. "When did you do this?" I ask. The scent of Russian sage, which is tucked in with the bluebonnets, wafts over to me. I glace up to Kate as she responds.

"After I woke from a horrid dream, I got up and decided to fix us a little breakfast for three. Linda was already up and doing her daily housewife routines, and I knew she'd wake you up sooner or later, " Kate said. I was playing with the soft petals of a rose mallow when a question came to mind.

"And what was the dream?"

Kate considered for a moment, catching Linda's attention. "I was in the middle of town, all alone. I began to walk down the endless rows of vacant buildings when I saw Sam. Heart beating, I began to run. I ran faster, and at that point began to cry. My hair, the curls fell down from their pins into a loose mess, and I no longer felt skirts whipping at the back of my legs. I was turning from Katherine to Kate. And no matter how fast I ran, I couldn't get to him. When I finally felt as if I had reached where I had wanted to go, I fell to my knees, and when I looked at him, I saw his skeleton." She paused, making a conclusion. "And that's when it ended."

"Hmm…" I said. The image Kate had given me played over and over in my head like a movie. I glanced at her, checking her facial expressions. She, too, was thinking it all out; her eyes were shady and melancholy. Her chin was ducked down, and her lashes swayed up and down as she blinked slowly. "There was another part to the dream, mixed in. It was odd, really.

"After I saw Sam's…" she shifted uncomfortably as she spat out the next word. "_bones_, I saw Rosie crawl out of nowhere. I still stood were I was, and I made a move for her. But she ran, her tail flying up behind her. I chased her franticly, as anyone in my certain place would. But the truth repeated over and over again in my head: '_you'll never find her again, out here in the desert.' _And, eventually, I woke up and found her curled up in between Linda and I, were she should be." Kate smiled, then opened her eyes to see me staring dumbly. "You have no idea who Rosie is, do you?"

"Not at all," I said. "There's another one?"

"You should _meet _her!" Linda chirped. With that, the door slammed and she ran inside.

I stared at Kate. "Do I?" I said. "Do I want to meet Rosie?"

She shrugged. "I guess you have to. She's part of the package."

Linda burst back outside, nearly tripping over herself. She held something behind her back.

"Guess what?" She smiles.

"You have Rosie behind your back." I try to peek to what's trapped in her hands, but she refuses.

"Yes!"

"Yeah! I win."

"I'm gonna show her!"

"Wait…"

"Here we go!"

"Linda-"

"Now let's see who's behind my back…"

"Wait, I'm-"

"Ah-ha-ha!"

"LINDA?"

"SURPRISE!"

A lizard.

I scooted back my chair and stumbled out, following the simple instructions of how to run from a lizard. Run. Don't look back. Scream.

But nothing was chasing me. Kate and Linda were staring at me like I was some sort of deranged freak, and "Rosie" the lizard had perched on Kate's shoulder.

I tried to calm down. "So let me get this this straight." I looked at Linda. "You are my grandma." I looked at Kate. "You are Kissin' Kate Barlow." I stared at the lizard. The lizard stared at me. "This is a lizard. A Texas Yellow Spotted lizard. On your shoulder."

Kate gently petted the lizard on the head with her fingers. "Her name is actually Rosie."

"And she gets even weirder," I say.

"I know we're not supposed to get a dog… or a cat. Or a gerbil. But you never said anything about a lizard. And," Kate was pleading for me to approve of the lizard, "and she already was my pet. _Please. _She's really sweet. She doesn't bite, and she likes to be petted and held." All three of them looked as if they were pleading; Kate giving Bambi eyes, Linda puckering her lips and Rosie grunting and tilting her head to the side. I sigh.

"I never said you _couldn't_ keep her_."_

And then, that day, yet another creature was added to the household.


	10. Feather Wishes

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been meaning to get back to this stuff, but I just keep forgetting. But, whatever, here you go. ;)**

Later that day, the freaks discovered magic. Magic in a prehistoric black box I had gotten on sale at Wal-Mart fifteen years ago. They have discovered the TV.

Kate, really, was the one who "found" it; Linda is just basking at its Direct TV-powered, colorful glory. She's been sitting on the couch, bugging out her awed cow eyes watching Spongebob Squarepants (I don't know how people stand it; if I hear that theme song one more time I'll need to kill someone), and sitting stiller than I've ever seen her. Kate has been gone that entire time, four and a half hours, snooping around in the heat of the afternoon.

Hold it. _Four _and a half hours?

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOO… WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER DA SEA? SPONGEBOB SQAREPANTS! ABSORBANT AND YELLOW AND…" This is the television in the living room, screaming as louder than human ears can possibly bear.

"Hey, Granny!" I say. I am staring through the shutters in the breakfast nook to the back of Linda's red head.

After bursting out in laughter at some incredibly stupid thing Mr. Krabs did, Linda cranes around to where I can see her pale, freckly face. Her eyes sparkle with never-ending enthusiasm, and her head is cocked to the side, eager to please. "Granny!" she says, clapping her tiny, twitching hands. She smiles, a finger pressing down on the low-volume button on the remote. "I can see your recognizing me as your GRANDMA now!"

I think one pupil is dilated, and the other eye is having a twitching fit. Now I'm afraid.

Linda Walker doesn't really seem to fit as my grandmother. She has some freaky twitchy, jittery disorder that may be, to this day, unnamed, and she's absolutely the loudest, most energetic person I've ever met. She seems to be enthusiastic about things she's mad about. Let's put it this way… She's…

Weird…

"Have you seen Rosie?" I say. "Kate's been gone, and I don't think she took the lizard with her."

"Huh-uh," Linda replies. "I saw Kate sneak out, about…" She twists her head around in thought. "…A long time ago. Rosie wasn't with her. I asked her, 'What are you doing?' and she just smirked and left without saying a thing."

"Oh." As Linda turns back to the TV, and I turn back into the kitchen, I see Rosie. She's crawling an inch away from my nose on the frame of the doorway, swishing her scaly emerald tail back and forth, barely pricking my eyelash. She's headed somewhere.

"Hey!" I say. I make a grab for her and she scoots away, but I'm not sure I could touch a reptile, anyhow. "Rosie!"

My ears concentrate on the clicking of her little toenails on the hardwood as I chase her through rooms. I duck into the little den, which is musty and practically unused. As I breathe in the scent of old-ness, I see Rosie stop and crawl up the leg of a wooden stool.

I remember my grandpa dwelling here in the last year of his life. He had already departed from the world, practically, though he still stood and breathed… That emotionless look in his dark eyes told you he was alone now, and his end was near. He was ready to leave his eighteen-year-old granddaughter the parentless owner of the vacant Greenlake, Texas.

I sigh and crouch down on the woven indigo rug. A current of dust lifted up into the air, swirling into invisibility as I open a drawer in the aged cherrywood cabinet. I gasped as little slips of white spill around me. It had been heavy with old, sepia photos. I pick one up and examine it. I recognize the face.

Kate Barlow.

Curls of blond spill around her blank face, bright red lips curled into a mischievous smirk. White lace lines around her neck, and a leather jacket goes around that. Her big, dark blue eyes shine into the camera.

Why did my grandfather have dozens and dozens of photos of his legendary enemy?

A little pinned-together stack stands out from the others. It's pictures from my grandparent's wedding on the shore of the lake. Linda is wearing a beautiful lightly colored dress that twists around them in a long train. I can tell she is trying her best not to fall into an energetic, jittery fit. Grandpa Charles is not the thousand-year-old ugly old man with scraggly white hair poking up in all directions and crooked teeth I'd always known. His shiny brown hair is neatly combed and he's wearing a black satin suit, with a stargazer lily tucked in the front pocket.

Then I think he was sort of cute in his golden ages. Then I slap myself.

I was just smoothing out the petals a dried flower tucked in with a picture of Kate looking like a paid assassin when I heard a little, wispy noise coming from the other side of the wall.

Rosie has heard it, too. She's scratching at something behind the little stool. As I move it aside, I see it's a miniature door with a glossy, dark green porcelain knob sticking out. With its cobwebs and tiny flower designs, the knob dares me to turn it. I do.

There is Kate, huddled in a ball in the corner. Particles of dusts sift around her, and she's crying in quiet, repressed sobs. As two old floorboards creak under my knee, and her head shoots up.

"Wha-" she says. Her facial expressions are angry, and I'm thinking about turning back around and leaving. But if there's one thing I've learned in my sad, pitiful lifetime, is that turning around does not settle things. I still sit there, with Rosie trying desperately to squeeze through the tiny crack between the ajar doorway and my butt. Kate is giving me the same paid assassin look as in that last picture. I tuck a wisp of hair behind my ear and look up at her from under my lashes, pleading simple forgiveness. She sighs and turns back to her soft murmurs of crying, barely noticing my presence. I notice she's clutching something between two fingers.

"What's that, Kate?" I say gently.

"Oh," she whispers. She swirls around the item. I notice it's the little kite feather she keeps in her hat sometimes. She runs her index finger along it's smooth, silver surface. "Sam gave this to me. Do you know who Sam is?"

"Yes." I'd read about his death in a newspaper. I knew my grandfather had killed him; and this was why Kate lurked for revenge and hid away from the world.

She smiled, but it was a sad smile. Her eyelashes were glossy, and her lips were lined with tears. "He told me, that if I wished hard enough for something on this feather, wished with my heart, I would get it." She frowned. "I wished for him to come back to me. It never happened. It doesn't _work_."

I raked my brain for something to comfort my friend. "Maybe it's not him coming to you, but you coming to him," I said._ Nice line, Dr. Phil..._

Then Rosie's pushing became harder. I scooted out of the way, and Linda tumbled out of the doorway.

"I heard it all!" she said. "You still have that feather?"

We were both staring at Kate, who wasn't making any contact whatsoever.

"What's wrong, serial killer buddy?" said Linda.

Kate was mumbling to herself. Wishing, I guessed. She opened her eyes, and a smile spread across her face. It was a sneaky smile, like the one I'd get when I was little and I hid Grandpa's favorite watch. She held the feather in her fingers.

I turned to Linda, and for only five seconds we exchanged glances. And in those five seconds, Kate disapeared.

"WHERE DID SHE GO?" I screamed. I scrambled to my feet, and made my way to the window with Linda at my side. Then I stoped. Linda stopped. (How is this possible?)

Outside wasn't the same.


	11. The Good 'Ol Days

**a/n: Yeah, after that chapter I'm pretty dang excited to continue. Da, da da da da da DAH! (That was a song. I think.)**

"No…. No way…"

Linda gazed out the window as I began to pace around the room. With my fingers gnarled into my hair, I lifted the curtains back up.

For one thing, the desert had been washed over with a grassy blanket, and trees flourished around the area. The town was _bustling _with life. Women in 19th century dresses walked out of general stores, and alongside friends or husbands. Men in similar old-styled wear come in and out of shops and hotels, scurrying along the streets. Horses were tied on posts outside of buildings, swishing their tails and awaiting owners. A slight coolness had suddenly arrived; a _normal _temperature. Any signs of the remains of Camp Greenlake were gone, almost as if it had never been there. My car wasn't in sight.

"Where are we?" I say dumbly.

"Greenlake," says Linda.

"I know," I say. "But..."

"Hey!" Linda says, smiling. "Maybe that man can help us. See? That man down there." I follow her finger to a rosy-cheeked man, dressed smartly with his hands in his pockets, staring up at us under the brim of a derby hat with an automatic smile.

Dragged by Linda, I stumble down the porch steps into the new outside world. With her upper lips tucked, holding her breath, Linda pokes the dude.

"Excuse me sir, but can you tell me the date?" she says. _Hello, sir. Can you please escort my friend and me here to the nearest loony bin?_ "We, uh… Lost track of the date and need to know it because, we, uh… have a show we need to get to, and we can't remember if it's today or tomorrow."

Without peering up, the man digs around in his fancy black silk jacket and pulls out a fancy pocket watch, one that shows times and dates. "Two-thirty p.m., Saturday, May twelfth…" and then adds, "1890." He smiles again, tips the derby, and after hearing Linda's thank you and saying, "nice to serve 'ya, ladies", he walks away.

I frown and pull my grandmother away. "_1890_?" I hiss. "What happened? We just went back a hundred and somethin' years ago; just like that? And where's Kate?"

Linda paused, looking me straight in the eye. "Lou, let's think straight here-"

"Yeah, right"

"Well, Kate had that feather, right? Right before _this _all happened, she looked like she was wishing or something."

"You call that thinking straight?" I say, raising my eyebrows.

"Well, what you have?" she inquired, peering at me and pointing her nose upwards.

I did have something, but I'd only make a fool out of myself by telling. But… "Maybe it wasn't the feather. Greenlake, as you know, works through a series of curses and whatnot. Like, say, _magic._ When it rained after the treasure was dug up, the man Kate got the treasure from was dug up by his great-grandson one hundred years later… the onions keeping you guys alive."

Linda nodded as I spoke. "But this didn't just happen," she said.

"Yes, I was getting to that," I stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "All of these things happened with a symbol. Treasure, onions… So if it's not the feather, than what is it?"

Linda thought for a moment. "Lipstick tube!"

"Lipstick tube?"

"Yes. Kate had that half a golden lipstick tube when this happened. I guess that's out 'symbol'," Linda said. "And who has the other half?"

"Stanley Yelnats, the boy who dug up the treasure, and the official ruin-er of my life," I say. This is his new title.

"Hmm…" says Linda. "So Kate has the lipstick tube. Probably Rosie, too."

"And she's gone." This is a problem.

"So," Linda grins. "Let us find her!"

We'll need a map, I say in my head. Linda knows her way around old Greenlake, and probably the people, too, since she's the wife of the son of the richest man in the county. It'll be virtually easy at least following the path of an infamous outlaw like Kate Barlow. Perhaps in the time being she'll rob a bank, and Linda and I can get to the town the bank is in. Does she hang out in saloons? She has a gang...

"Won't we need horses?" I ask.

"Trout and I are good friends of the Collingwood's," Linda explains. "They have a small ranch on the edge of town."

The breeze swoops through town, fluttering the edge of my blouse, which is now half tucked into my jeans.

"You need to change clothes, before we go anywhere. People are going to think you're from the traveling circus," Linda says, smiling. She knows what I am thinking, and says: "Mr. Pike, the owner of the general store, actually does have dresses. And longer dresses, for taller people."

"Excuse me?" But I _am _a taller person.

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

When we get to the general store, I expect air conditioning.

There is not air conditioning.

Mr. Pike is a jolly man with a thoughtful wrinkle on his forehead, an easy smile, and twinkling green eyes.

"Dress! Extra long dress for the nice young lady!" he shouts as he listens to Linda. I imagined someone coming in wanting underwear. "Underwear! Extra large underwear for the nice young man!" Linda whispers something in his ear, and he smiles and whispers something back. All I hear is, "white?" and "yes, she doesn't have any good ones to go with the dress."

Mr. Pike emerges from a giant oak cabinet carrying a pink and soft purple colored cotton dress, smoothing out the wrinkles with care. As he hands it to my grandmother, I see there is something else tucked in with it, but I can't make out what. He hands us two plums as we leave, and then we are on our way back to the cabin.

We make our way to the front porch through the swarms of people flowing down Main Street, and then into the house.

"Here, put it on," says Linda.

"Okie dokey," I say.

As I stumble into the dress in the bathroom, I hear a knock on the door. Then I hear a man's voice:

"LINDA!"

"Hurry!" Linda screams from the other side of the door. The door opens a little, and Linda throws something in.

"What are these?" I say.

"Fancy underpants!" Linda snaps.

"I can't put them on!"

"Hurry!"

"They're _poofy_!"

"Lou!"

"Poofy!"

I finally get the underpants on, and Linda drags me out on the bathroom, throws yarn at me from a shelf near where the TV used to be, and told me to act like I was knitting while she talked to the angry dude at the door.

Really, I didn't pretend to knit at all.I stared past the yarn as Linda opened the door, and immediately realized I recognized the man in the doorway from the picture at my grandparent's wedding.

Grandpa Charles.

"Where have you been?" he growled. His angry voice snapped me out of my trance and made me begin fumbling with the knitting act.

"Uh, uh…" Linda seemed just as afraid. "A friend of mine is sick. I might have to watch her for a couple of days while her husband is out of town.

"Her?" Grandpa says, gesturing to me. My head shoots down, though I know he won't recognize me. I'm not supposed to be alive yet.

"No," Linda says. "She's upstairs, and, and… She needs her bed rest!"

Grandpa gives her a nasty look, then storms out, slamming the door behind him. I drop the now increasingly itchy yarn, and Linda slumps down, letting out a sigh of relief.

I get up from the couch and make my way over to her. "We'd better get going," I suggest. I open the door.

She nods, but we both know we don't know where we're going. We just went back in time, and Linda's husband is mad at her, and we're trying to hunt down a killer outlaw. We act like this is such a natural thing, when really; we don't know anything at all. But still, what else could we do…

My attention floats to a curly-haired boy milling around in front of the cabin. He's waving around his arms, trying desperately to attract attention. He's dressed in jeans and a jacket, and he's really standing out.

Wait.

"Stanley?" I say aloud. How…? What…?

And he's holding a glinting half a lipstick tube in his hand.


	12. Stanley

**a/n: After that chapter, you might be thinking I'm crazy. Well, I am. So, on to the next chapter, and the Misadventures of Linda and Lou! (Please review. Please?) *Smiles and begins typing chapter***

I begin to run to the next room, my heart racing, and Linda grabs my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she questions calmly as I shake her off. My hands are balled into fists and my knuckles are tight and splattered with white. Despite the breezy Texas day, I am breathing in long, uneasy periods and my hands are clammy.

"It's Stanley!" My long legs swerve around a misplaced stool. The rooms I had known and decorated in the house were now dusty and unfamiliar.

Linda strived to keep up with me. "Stanley Yelnats, the boy from the old camp?" she says, still lurking behind me. The worry and shock had caused her energetic streak to vanish.

We both leap out the door, and back through the Greenlake people standing casually among the streets. Stanley turns and eyes the two tall, freckled ladies making their way towards him, their thick red hair bouncing loosely behind them. His eyes grow wide as his mind registers my face. "Hey!" he screams. He is almost sure it is me. Anyways, he was absent-mindedly stopping and calling several people among the streets. His eyes are frightened, and he acts almost hysterical. "Can you help me?" he says, and grabs my arm. Testing to see if I'm really the old Warden he knows, he says: "Do you know me? Stanley Yelnats?" His face is pleading.

"Do you know me, the Warden?" I say. His hand constricts around my arm.

"Yes," he breathes. "Where am I?"

Linda is standing in the shade of a nearby building, watching us intently with those blank hazel eyes. I suck in a breath of the humid air, and look from my half-covered-by-a-dress boots to Stanley. "I'd tell you, but as you can see, I'm just as misplaced here as you are."

"So you have no idea why we're here?" The hysteria returns. "I just, you know, _pick up _this lipstick tube, and POOF! There's no Mom, no dad, no grandpa, no Hector…" He sighed shakily and digs his fingers into the curly brown hair. I've seen this boy dropped off at a desolate wasteland, and facing death, covered by poison lizards, but he's never been this frightened. I may hate him like nobody else, but suddenly, he and I shared the same pain. He's almost insane with worry. "Did you do this?" he demands loudly, catching the attention of a couple of by passers.

"Excuse me?" I growl. He laughs dryly as he hears my overly-repeated quote.

"It _is _you…" he whispers, smiling. "…In a dress."

"Excuse me?" The line is suddenly popping out at will. "You look like a clown mixed in with these people in _that_." I point to his 21st century wear. He shrugs nonchalantly, chuckling. "I've got worse things to worry about," he says. He seems to have calmed down a bit, now that he knows that people he knows have joined him in this adventure.

"Do you have any idea how we got here?" he says.

Just then, leaning on a barrel in front of Stanley, I tell him about the closed girl scouts camp, my deranged plan and the trip to the mountain, "Katherine" and Linda, who they really are, Rosie, the breakfast and Kissin' Kate Barlow's unknown generosity, Kate gone missing, the old room and my grandpa, the pictures, the little door, the feather and Sam, the lipstick tube, going back in time, Mr. Pike and the dress and the poofy underpants, Trout knocking on the door, Linda and I 's plan, all up to the point I found him. I told Stanley Yelnats, the boy I despised, absolutely _everything_.

And it so sounded insane.

But, to my surprise, his eyes sparkle, and he's watching me, listening to me, with complete interest. As I talk, he nods. I watch as he analyzes the story, imagining it in his mind. "That's amazing," he says, strongly impressed. "So we need to find Kate, to see if we can piece this back together and get home."

"Correct," I say, grinning, relieved to get that whole story off my back. "We need to stop by the ranch owned by a family Linda knows, then we'll see if we can figure out where Kate has been. As strange as it sounds, I hope she's robbed a bank or something. From what I've heard, news travels quickly to Greenlake."

So suddenly, this all has gone from an utter nightmare to a picture-perfect adventure to Stanley. His hand runs along Linda's shoulder, as if he is touching the shoulder of a heroine. He looks amused. "This is really your grandmother? I can really meet _Kissin' Kate Barlow_? I mean, you know her, right? She won't shoot me or anything...?"

I grab his hood and pull him away from my grandmother.

"Which way is the ranch?" I ask Linda.

"On the western shore of the lake." She glances at Stanley and I. "The Collingwoods will _love _you two."

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

The Collingwood ranch was just off the half of town my family owned. Peach trees decorated the foreground, and a cozy farmhouse sat in front of us. Beautiful horses with coats of dapples, blacks, greys, dunn, chestnut, and pinto graze outside, and I hear scattered whinnies in the white-painted stables. Ferns and pansies are planted outside the doors. Only the sunlight and few flickering candles light the interior of the house from what I could see through the little windows. The scent of herbs and, by what I was guessing, cooking dinner drifted outside.

Curling her small, freckled hand, Linda quickly knocked on the door. Her eyes are dancing, and a smile lights her face. She was eager to see friends she hadn't seen in decades, perhaps a century.

"Honey, was that a knock?" a woman's voice inquires.

"Mrs. Collingwood?" Linda says sweetly. Her head is turned in what I think is supposed to be a cute way, and her smile has grown in size and is now looking like a happy, scary lady that pops out of nowhere in horror movies and scares you every time. A woman, Mrs. Collingwood I guess, opens the door and immediately embraces Linda. Her eyes are knowing and older, a sort of pale emerald shade. Her greyed hair is pinned into a bun, a few wisps draping down to her cheekbones, and she is wearing a small, floral-patterned cloth bonnet. She is midgetly, short and thin, like Kate, hence the lipstick. Her face is gentle and in a way, leathery, like most older women. Mr. Collingwood, tall and thin, appears behind her, giving Linda and I a sweet smile in greeting.

"What can we get you two girls?" Mr. Collingwood says, making his may past his wife.

"We need a couple of horses, if it's no bother," Linda said, smiling.

"Oh!" Mrs. Collingwood smiles, clapping her hands. "Follow me to the stables, and you'll have some sweet ones, one for each of you. Mares, if you don't mind." We all shake our heads, saying kindly that mares wouldn't be a problem, though I see childish disappointment streaking Stanley's face. I roll my eyes.

In the stables, Mrs. Collingwood pads down the aisle of horses, patting each one nicely on the muzzle. She stops at a dappled grey, and leads it towards Linda, who's face is lit up, and her eyes are wide with happiness, like a child unwrapping the perfect gift on Christmas morning. "She's lovely!" Linda exclaims, to Mrs. Collingwood's delight.

"Blossom," Mrs. Collingwood says to Linda, patting the horse on it's silver neck. "Her name is Blossom."

Next is a straight-eared, glassy-eyed filly with a soft dun coat and a dark brown mane. She whinnies and shakes her head as Stanley runs his hand along her neck. "Alright, you're a _girl_, but I'll put up with it. You're sweet." He nuzzles her and laughs as she snorts.

"Cola," Mrs. Collingwood says to Stanley.

I stand with tall, with grace, at the end of the aisle. Mrs. Collingwood grins, unlatching a hook to a stable.

"And this is Bella. She's a beauty, long-legged, too." She leads out a tall mare with a shining white coat. Her eyes are blue and gentle, like Kate's. She stands beside me with her white ears erect. I pat her neck.

"Bella," I repeat. "I love her." I feel like I'm a princess, in my own little world, in a land with peach trees and a sparkling lake, with a beautiful horse of my very own.

"You ladies have fun!" Mrs. Collingwood waves behind her as she shuts the door. She expects all of us to know how to ride. I do. Linda does. I think Stanley might. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he will fall off and break his neck. That would make me happy.

Linda mounts her horse. "Come on, people. We need to be at least in the next town by sundown. I have no time for stalling."

"C'mon, Stanley," I say. "Let's go before Lady Linda beheads us."

And off we go, the Three Musketeers, riding off into the sunset.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**WELCOME TO DEADWOOD VALLEY!  
OUTLAWS AND BANDITS HIGHLY UNWELCOME TO ROBBING**

This is the sign that is on the trail leading to Deadwood Valley. Bulletholes cover it's surface.

"Lou," Linda whispers, tugging on the sleeve of my dress. I shift around in my saddle, wanting badly to rip off the cursed poofy underpants.

"_What_?" I whisper back, though I can't find the need to whisper. Stanley is leaning over on Cola to hear. I swat him away, somewhere in the process flicking his nose with a couple of fingers.

"Kate isn't here. See? It says, 'Outlaws and bandits highly unwelcome."

I laugh dryly. "Hey, it's like putting a sign in front of a vampire that says, 'don't drink blood.' Firstly, it's a law, and, -hel-lo!- OUTLAWS don't read LAWS. And secondly, a sign doesn't make a bandit no want to rob. It's stupid. I_'_m_ sure _Kate's here. There's a big saloon, and a nice bank."

"Oh," Linda says.

"Is there an arcade?" asks Stanley, grinning.

"I... don't... think.... so...." Linda says, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Aw, man! I was wanting to go to Chuck E. Cheese's," I say. _Idiot_.

Bella and I are leading, and I pull into the saloon. "Old Joe's Saloon" is painted on a white board hanging crooked at the top, and I hear singing and screaming and crashing and piano-playing inside. Linda is nervous and twitchy, looking up at the sign and to the old swingy saloon doors. Stanley is thoughtful, deciding whether going inside would be an adventure or a bad idea. I'm already heading inside.

I already hear men cat-calling at Linda and I. Stanley is trailing behind us, surveying his surroundings. My grandmother is hunched over and pale.

"Hey, honey! You look worried. Come sit down with me."

I spin around to see a shaggy old man sitting propped back in a creaky wooden chair staring at Linda.

"Excuse me?" I say sharply.

"Oh, you, too," he says, grinning to reveal several black spots in his smile.

"Hey! Shut up!" I yell, slamming my fist on the side of the chair. He swings back.

"What are you doing? If you wanna be all feisty, 'ya might wanna hang out with that 'purty thing over there. Watch out, she'll bite. She threatened to shoot me! And I say, and I say, 'Hey! I ain't doin' nothin'!" He points to a thin woman in the corner.

"Kate!" Linda says excitedly. Stanley's eyes grow to be like brown half-dollers. He follows me towards Kate.

Her hair is in long blond curls, and her lonely, big blue eyes are set in another direction. She wears a soft leather abigail vest over a white blouse, and jeans under turquoise-studded boots. She sits like a small ghost on a barstool in the corner, with a little pale green lizard perched on her shoulder. Men are staring at her with sappy grins, but she pays no mind to them. I touch her thin shoulder.

"Kate?"

She looks at me, and for a moment, I feel she has forgotten. Forgtten Linda and I, forgotten our friendship. But, then:

"Lou!"

I smile.


	13. The Gang

**a/n: Yeah! Summer is coming up, and I am h-a-p-p-y! Watch out, world, because I am feeling like writing and stuff. (Seriously, watch out. It's for your own good.) Have fun with the reading. (Love, Katy.) :o)**

The sun had begun to set when our little group of four moved outside. The sky had burst with a streak of coral pink, and the fading blue of the afternoon day lining around the setting sun.

Stanley and Kate had met each other formally inside the saloon, but Stanley was still watching the outlaw out of the corner of his eye with interest as she mounted her horse.

"Hi there, Beaut," said Kate, stroking the horse's coarse, reddish mane. Beaut whinnied her greetings, swishing a long russet tail back and forth. I pet her soft muzzle, whispering "good girl" softly in the straight brown ears. Linda is already attending to Blossom, straightening her saddle and blanket, feeding her a sugar cube sneaked from the Collingwood stables. Bella watches me intently, seeming to say, "Hey! I'm over here!" (I love a horse with attitude.)

"If we head back at twilight, just before complete darkness, I can stay unseen by familiar towns. If we are running slow, though, there's a full moon expected tonight." Kate reins in towards Linda, Stanley and me, beckoning us to follow her back along the trails out of Deadwood Valley. There is a rather agitated look on her pale face, and her eyes are dark and suspicious to the town fading out of view, as the other horses trail behind her.

As I watch the ghostly white moon hanging over the crescent of orange sun, I realize, in the state of calmness, what an utter disaster the day had been. Would I rather be alone in my own bed, in my own time, than on a trail with a company of friends in a time long ago?

Staring at the back of the red and blond heads, I wondered if this was more than our friendship was worth.

"Excuse me," Stanley says to Kate's head.

"Hmmm?" Kate hums, her gaze shifting from the path in front of her to Stanley.

"Just out of interest," Stanley starts, his hand grazing the surface of the saddle horn for support. "Where are we going? I mean, town-wise. What are we going to do? I've seen all those old western movies on TV, like when my dad is watching them and stuff, but I really don't know what you outlaws do. Are you going to rob a bank? I might have to wait outside, as dorky as that sounds… I just can't see a guy get shot." His lips are pursed as Kate absorbs the questions.

"I don't see any purpose rob a bank at the moment," Kate responds, chuckling, her head turning back in front of her. "We're going to the outskirts of Greenlake, around the edge of the lake. It's at the base of the mountain, a great place to hide. The trails are almost unknown around that area, basically. That is where my gang has settled for now."  
"Ohhhh…" Stanley says, his eyes bugging, lips forming an o.

"How many people are in your gang?" Linda asks.

"Five men." Kate nods her head, sending Linda and Stanley into a state of wonder, imagining the five men in Kate's gang. Then, another stupid question flies out of Stanley's mouth:

"Are they nice?" Ha. A gang of saintly outlaws, right here in Greenlake, Texas. Seriously, Stanley?

Little did I know, half of these guys were your basic happy campers.

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

We arrived at our destination late at night. The trail became damp and marshy, with cattails and long, wavy grasses and weeds. We led the horses along behind Kate, our boot heels (and tennis shoes) squishing softly as we walked.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle rang out in the night air. Kate was watching around the area, waiting for a response. "Hey!" she yelled, though it barely sounded like a "Hey," more like gibberish. With an irritated sigh, she padded silently through a ravine, leaving Beaut, trusting her not to wander. I let Bella do the same, along with Stanley and Linda to Cola and Blossom.

We came to a clearing, a perfect sphere cut from the mountain. Men were asleep, tossed around like rag dolls in different positions, their faces shaded by cowboy hats. They slept on blankets and bedrolls, though one boy slept on a bed of bluegrass. One shaggy-haired blonde was aroused from slumber by Kate, and when he noticed her, _our_, arrival, he tipped back his hat to reveal eyes blue as a mountain lake.

Holy muffins, Batman, this guy is hot.

He shoved around the other gang members until all five were wiping vestiges of sleep from their eyes.

The boy sleeping on grass stretched, combing his dark hair with his fingers. His eyes fluttered open, and fixed on Kate. "Kissin' Kate Barlow! Nothin' else in the world as beautiful of a sight to wake up to than you." A growl escaped from Kate's throat, and she veered back a slender leg and kicked him. "Ack! It attacks!" he screams, laughing. I can't help but smile.

Kate turns to us, forcing me to stop secretly watching the hot blonde dude. "I suppose, that to know them," she points to the gang members, who are still flopping around, loudly awakening. "You must know their names.

"Slim." The weird dark-haired boy waves happily. I note that he looks not much older than fifteen or sixteen, by his childish face and young appearance. "Jesse." A green-eyed, freckle-faced man clumsily making his way over to Slim waves sideways. He looks not much older. "Ted." An older, Asian man sitting cross-legged stares silently back at me. "John." A roundly shaped Native American man nods in greeting. And, finally: "Jake." The shaggy-haired boy smiles at me, his blue eyes shining. He looks not much older than twenty. I feel my face flush, and I look at Linda, who is giving an enthusiastic grin to all of them.

"And if," Slim says, yawning, "You are as tired as we are, you might as well lay down. The grass is nice and comfy, and you will fall right…" His head falls down, and he produces a lousy, fake snore. Jesse laughs, and they high-five each other.

Hey. These freaks aren't bad.

(Especially Jake.)


	14. Promise

**a/n: It's been a while since my last chapter, in my opinion. Ah, my good people, I am back! Once again: Please review. "I value your opinion, and want to consider your thoughts".  
I will send Kate after you.**

* * *

Through his complete ignorance, my grandpa was good at hiding things from me. He was an actor; but one who didn't have the stage set up just right. From the time I picked up a shovel for the first time to my eighth birthday, I, too, believed "digging builds character." When my mother and father died in a car crash, my grandfather had been a close family member who was willing to take me in. When I was older, he was a man who had made me the slave who had nobody to free her. So, technically, I had been abandoned from the very start.

Once I inherited the digging and my grandpa had become my official guardian, he knew that I'd soon drop out of school. This made time for more digging, right? This time was around the end of my junior year at high school, the year I had gotten quite interested in acting, drama, and was becoming less of a wiry, red-headed freak walking along in the shadows. Friends were plentiful, (though I didn't have much time for wild sleepovers and after-school socializing) and I can be proud to say that I had, in the perspective of Lou Walker, the most wonderful and understanding and kind-hearted boyfriend that could ever be completely, entirely, and to the very core of his heart, terrified of my grandpa. Though I had given a thorough summary of the promise I would tell my grandfather to keep, (do NOT interfere with my social life… ever.) he walked right up to Will Russell and told him to never, ever kiss me again, or he'd "blow his pretty little head right off" as I watched with an unevenly beating heart that would soon burst into a gel-like liquid that would look a lot like ketchup, or a sauce served on Italian pastas. And then I dropped out, without a goodbye or a kiss, and I never saw my absolutely wonderful boyfriend again.

Not too long after my grandfather passed away was Camp Greenlake Juvenile Correctional Facility opened with high hopes and a whole lot of lying, and the hopeless pursuit of trying to find Kissin' Kate Barlow's buried treasure, a hopeless pursuit that would, after a century of searching, crash in an utter disaster for the poor old Walker family.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

I opened my eyes to a flushed pastel sky at dawn, yawning and stretching my tired limbs without waking my nearby neighbors. Everyone was asleep; Linda curled in a ball, her long, long, red hair sprawling out behind her, waved in the tall grass, the gang tossed into a deep, perhaps dreamless slumber, Stanley uncomfortably positioned in his jeans and jacket. I felt around my head, finding not tangled, but poofy, almost 80's hair springing out around my face. I tried to straighten it with my hands, pressing and smoothing it.

I lay on my side, my eyes fluttering, adjusting to the light, until:

"Lou?" _Poke. _"Lou?" _Poke, poke. _"Loulouloulouloulou." _Poke._"What?"

"Yeah! You're awake." Linda sat beside me, watching me with wide eyes. "I gotta question. Will you answer it?"

"Sure. I have a lot of time on my hands," I said.

"Do you really think of me as you grandmother?"

"Why?"

"Do you?"

"Yes."I think.

She crawled around to the other side of me, almost touching Jessie, who was still sleeping close by. "Well, I left Hazel when she was so little… I just felt so guilty. I felt guilty to leave her without a mother, I felt guilty to leave her child without a grandmother."

"Me?" I asked.

"Yes. And I felt guilty to leave her with Trout, all alone, to leave you with Trout. I _knew _he was a terrible dad. But I couldn't leave Kate, either. I just want to say that I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Leonard," I said, smiling and nodding my famous smile and nod.

She grins. "Would you like a muffin?"

"Would I?"

"Would you?"

"Would I? Life a muffin?" I said. "Where did you get a muffin?"

She held up a blueberry muffin, fat and moist and delicious. I like me the muffins. "Slim had a muffin, and he said, 'would you like two muffins?' and I said, 'holy muffins I'd life two muffins!'"

I smiled. Holy muffins.

"Sure."

She smiled and gave me the muffin, then went to go back to her spot in the grass. Then, she turned, looking at me curiously. "Do you promise you still love me as a grandmother?"

"Of course. But you can't always trust me with promises."

"Okay." She turned and flopped over on her side, then poked Slim to tell him a stupid joke or something. Trout would not approve of this socializing.

It was then that I paused, realizing abruptly that Kate was gone, her shape pressed freshly in her vacant bedroll. When I was out of the clearing, heading aimlessly towards the shore of the rippling lake, I saw her, her hair floating like a bright comet in the morning breeze. She had painted the daily coat of lipstick, enough to stain cloth, enough to leave a clear, scarlet print on a dead man's face. She was far beyond the point of hearing a whisper, even a regular-toned voice. She stood on an overhang on the mountain, her eyes a frozen lake staring across the horizon. I circled around the area until I found a path that would lead me to her.

"Kate?" I said, stumbling on my sleepy legs, arranging the skirts on my dress.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"How did you know?" I said, laughing. She scowled at me accusingly. "It was a joke," I mumbled.

"Humph."

"And why should you ask?"

"Besides those grotesque monsters, _zombies, _as you call them, would you believe a person could die, to say, and still be animated? Living?" she said, watching me with those frigid, inquiring eyes.

"Living dead?" I whispered. "No… I've only heard of zombies… Unless you can be a little more descriptive… tell me more of what you mean."

Kate sighed, shutting her eyes, burying herself in my arms. "I've just died inside, Lou. I still walk and talk, but I just not living anymore. My heart's still beating, but it's been broken and it has grown back so crooked. Why am I still here? I have no purpose, I'm a killer, and nobody wants me here, anyhow." Her body began to shake, and she was overwhelmed with a fresh wave of tears.

I let go of her, holding her shoulders and bending to look directly in her eyes. "You _do _have purpose. I felt useless when I was stuck by myself, but then I met you and Linda. You are the best friends I could ever ask for, and you make me feel… okay. I've tortured boys, I'm evil, and I'm a _monster._ You _killed _and I didn't, but what you've given to me… I hardly think of you as that. I haven't given to you at all. You are a person who deserves a great friend… You have Linda, but me… I'm sorry, Kate."

"You're not a monster, and you're not evil, Lou. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're a wonderful friend. You have a good heart; you were just raised wrong by Trout. Look at Stanley, I'm sure he doesn't think you're a monster, I'm sure." She smiled, sniffling a bit.

I hugged her; I didn't want to let go… I didn't want to put her in danger or let her even think she was only a murderer. She was something I couldn't lose. "I'll always be your friend, Kate Barlow. I promise. I'll protect you. I want you to know you have purpose." It was a promise I knew I had to keep.

When she smiled back at me, I, Lou Walker, really didn't feel evil after all.

"But I could love a monster as a friend, anyways," she said.

"And I could love an outlaw."


	15. Envy

**First order of business: I have deleted a story and started a new story about Kate Barlow and Trout Walker. It is confusing, and I advise you to not read it all at once, therefore I am telling you to read a chapter, run to a tree, hug, lick, or kick it, (if you can't find a tree, build one out of lard or uncooked muffins) and then come back, fix some raspberry or peach tea, dump it on your head, then read the next chapter.**

**Second order of business: I will now thank all of my reviewers! (If you aren't on this list and you are reading this, and, because you are a kind person, you review my story, I will thank you, too!)**

**_LeMoNsOuR: _I've already, in a crazed manner, thanked you. You will always remain my awesome first reviewer! *Claps***

**_Watermelonsaregood: _I agree. Watermelons are good. I'm glad you LOLed and liked my story. *Claps again***

**_Emily ()_: Lucky for you, if you are still reading, Jake will be in this chapter. If I see him, I will gladly put him in a box and send him first class to you. I'm glad you like Lou, too, because that was my goal in this story, to make someone like Lou. But, c'mon, don't you love Linda? You gotta love hyper, crazy Linda! (You think Stanley is sexy? Okay, I'll tell him, because I'm sure you have given him the biggest thrill of his young life.) *Claps with sore hands tired of clapping***

**REVIEW NOW! I'll give you a cookie!  
**

* * *

Everyone is awake now, and the sun is shining high over the lake. Kate and I are walking side-by side on the shore, and Linda has stopped a few yards back to poke crawdads with a stick.

A breeze tosses Kate's hair, sending it left and right like thin, gold ribbons, ruffling the loose sleeves of her white blouse. "I'm sorry about this morning," she says in a light tone. She kicks a silver seashell into the water. I meet her eyes, gazing forward, and nod.

"That's okay."

"I'm a crybaby."

"No you're not," I say, shaking my head.

"I'll try better not to put you in that awkward situation again," she said, a humored smile spreading across her face. I gave her a friendly pat on the back.

"I still mean what I said," I state, giving a backwards glance to my grandmother, stupidly huddled around a pool in the shore.

"Really? It didn't exactly sound like your typical self."

"Excuse me?"

"That's more like it."

Kate's beaming grin faded to a crooked smile as her eyes widen inquiringly, her almost violet irises shining brilliantly under the luminosity of the morning sky, her hair like the gold collected from a ray of sunlight. I study her carefully, and I feel heaviness in the pit of my stomach. For a second, I wonder if my grandfather had married her like expected, then, instead of mirroring Linda, would I perhaps look like this?

I ignore my feeling of vainness to realize something is visibly bothering her. "What's wrong?" I ask, my voice carefully constructed to sound as sweet as honeycomb. It works, her smile uneasily returns, and she opens up.

"Have you noticed something wrong with Jake?" she asked, peering at me.

Jake? Jake? My darling Jake?

"No," I say sharply, obviously surprised. "Like what?"

"He stares at me oddly, not exactly rudely, but it's definitely different," she muses.

"Like he likes you?"

"Oh!" Kate says. "I know he likes me! He's in my gang. Why wouldn't he like me?"

I'm talking to a woman who probably thinks there are still forty-seven states. She's probably unfamiliar with the whole likey-likey concept.

"Maybe it's something different," I mumble. I sure hope so.

"Is it me? And what did you mean by 'like'? Like, a crush? You know, Lou, I'm not familiar with 'modern terms'. If he does think of me that way, I hope he knows I'm not interested," she says. I squirm in my place  
uncomfortably. I need to get her off this topic; silence her. Was there anything I needed to say to her, ask her, perhaps?

"If-you-had-had-a-kid-with-Trout-instead-of-Linda-do-you-think-I-would–look-like-you?" I ask in quick gibberish. Kate has obviously heard me, because she stares at me with wide eyes.

"That's absurd!" she declares. I'm sure she only heard the first eight words.

Before Kate has another chance to argue, Linda is at her feet, her waist-length hair thrashing around her ivory face, coming toward us, yelling something unintelligible. I turn around, causing Kate to pause for a moment. "What?"

She comes to my side, pressing her lips up to my ear. "Jake wants to talk to you." She makes it sound urgent. For a moment I think, "What?" Then…

Halleluiah! Jake wants to speak to Lou!

!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Exclamation points!)

"Be right back!" I yell behind be as I turn back to camp, leaving Linda standing with a very confused Kate. Linda immediately starts talking. "I want coffee. Do you like coffee? It is good. One time I drank a lot of coffee and I spilled it on the couch and Trout thought it was dinner so I thought, 'what are we gonna have for dinner?' And then I made dinner and it smelled good it kinda smelled like coffee, which smells good. Socks are fun to wear when they are warm. Do you think so, Kate? Lou has pink socks and you have no socks and I have some socks 'cause I stole socks from Lou. I spilled coffee on those socks, and then they were warm. Do you think coffee is a good name for a dog? I've never had a dog because Trout didn't like dogs because some dogs have rabies and they bite you and you die and Trout didn't want me to die because I cleaned the house and made dinner. Trout likes food. I like COFFEE! Coffee is hot and once I spilled it on me and then I screamed because the coffee was hot and sometimes I like screaming. Do you like screaming? One time I screamed and it sounded like I was singing so maybe I'm a good singer but I don't know… Here, I'll sing for you! DO YOU LIKE WAFFLES? YEAH, I LIKE WAFFLES! DO YOU LIKE PANCAKES? YES, I LIKE PANCAKES! DO YOU LIKE FRENCH TOAST? YEAH, I LIKE FRENCH TOAST! DO DO DO DOO DO DO DO DO DO DOOT… WAF-FLES!"

I found Jake leaning casually against a rock. He smiled when I walked up, and I felt my cheeks burning red, which illustrated that I was a idiot, which I am. "Hey," he said. What if he thought I wasa idiot? But I am. What if my dress looks like rags? What if I look like a hobo? What if I am a hobo? I don't want to be a hobo? Why did I say that like it was a question? Why am I asking so many questions? What if Jake doesn't like people who ask too many questions? What if he doesn't like hobos, either? What if I don't like hobos? What if Jake is a hobo? What if we're both hobos and we're hobos together? Is Kate a hobo?

I smiled back. "What did you want? I mean, i-i-i-if you do want something… Linda said you wanted something and I was like, "okay!" and then I came over here and if you don't want something I'll go away…." Shut up, Lou, just shut up. I smiled crookedly, playing with a strand of long, ginger hair, suddenly self-conscious of my freckles.

He ran his fingers through frayed blond, as if preparing to say something he didn't quite want to say. "I could say I just wanted to talk, but that really wouldn't be the truth." He sighed, focusing his pale blue eyes on me.  
"You're friends with Kate, right?"

"Mmm-hmm…"

"Well, has she ever, y'know, mentioned me?"

"Nooo," I try to say in a nonchalant manner, but the word comes out shaky and deformed.

"Oh." He furrows his eyebrows. I was frightened to have an idea of what was coming next...

"Well, the truth is, I've had a crush on her for quite a while…"

Ehhh…

"Excuse. M-m-m-me." I'm not sure if it was a question or a statement, but it came out through gritted teeth.

Jake's face was the shade of a tomato, and he was trying his best to hide it.

"Don't tell her!" he yells, causing me to jump.

"Okay," I whisper. I smile fakely, -or at least I think I did- and slowly back off into a cove of ivy.  
Why? Why must Kate be so beautiful? I slam my foot into a rock; I suppose trying to break it with the strength of my rage. I sighed. Jake never would have loved me anyways. I'm just a… Crazy. Kick. Old. Kick. Lady. Kick. It really wouldn't hurt as much if I had to stare at and envy the lovely woman he did love, Kate Barlow. This really was a new thing, me being jealous of another's beauty.

I follow a path, not really paying standard attention to where I was going. My thoughts overwhelmed me, clouded my brain. When I finally did notice the world around me, I noticed that I had ventured away from the lakeside; it was nowhere in sight. Wild berries and bramble grow around a picturesque clearing; a place you'd see in a movie about unicorns or other colorful, mythical creatures. It was a cheery place, somewhere I needed to be. A narrow stream that fed off the lake babbled nearby, it's stony shore blanketed with wild moss. I sit on the silken grass, grabbing a handful of it and letting everything on my mind pour off into the calm waters in front of me.

I brush dust off my skirts, imagining how silly I must have looked in front of Jake, with my stupid dress and hair gone astray…

I hear a crack from my left side, the side opposite from where I came. Someone, or something, is coming towards me… I squeal softly and scurry rather mouse-like into a patch of overgrown bracken, curling up in a ball to where I could see them, but they couldn't see me. I got myself situated so that I was certain that only my hazel eyes could be seen.

What broke through the brush were three men, standing side, ornately dressed. The one in the middle stood out the most, he was almost flaunting. The others dressed in black, grimacing. I shrunk back a few inches, alert.

"Charlie, I'm certain we can't arrest her. We never have. She's fast, even with that gang of five… We've caught one of them but she quickly broke 'em out," said one of the darkly-clothed men. The man in the middle's face almost wilted, and he then looked agitated.

"I will…" he growled.

I concentrated on their conversation, unaware of the hissing beside me. When I did notice the black snake coiled about a foot away, I shrieked loudly and tumbled out of my hiding spot. All three of the men stared at me with wide eyes.

I felt my hair shading half my face, and I sat with bent legs on the ground. I studied them all, but my gaze always seemed to bounce back to that one man in the middle… I'm seen him somewhere before. He smoothed his brown hair with his fingers.

"Well, hello there, darlin'," he said, a dark smile crossing his features. I held my breath, but I realized it wasn't me he was talking to. A gold tooth glinted in the corner of his mouth.

"Leave her alone." There stood the lovely outlaw, her hair curved around her scowling face.

"Kate Barlow…" he said.

I gasped.


	16. I Hate Time Out

**Unfortunately for some of you, I am UPDATING! (Tee-hee-hee-hee!)**

**I totally flipped out (in a good way) when I saw my new review. I also giggled and scared my cat, who is named Gracie Jane and sometimes scares me because she looks like a panther, and also because she bites me sometimes.  
So… Err... Here are my thanksies, noble reviewer person lady friend thingy!**

Emkat97, otherwise known as Emily: Firstly, GET YOU AN ACCOUNT, WOMAN! It's fun having an account of your very very very very very own! I'm happy slappy overjoyed that you reviewed my fiction thing. Holy toilet plungers! Linda's only 2% more hyper than you? That's kind of scary, but also interesting, and a little bit scarier. I am also pleased that you like Linda's song. I sing it a lot, too; usually at the wrong times, and then I scare people. I HAVES A QUESTION!!! Are you the same Emily that reviewed me earlier? So… uh… This chapter is in honor of you! *Katy giggles again, causing Gracie to attempt to assault her feet with razor-sharp claws*

**I also must say one more innocent thing:**

**Fanfiction should start paying me, because I'm telling my friends about it. Well, um… I've only gotten two, (bunnybugs12 and earthyTheo) but it's a start! Neither of them have written stories yet, but they have made profiles, and that's a start.  
Live long. Review my story. Lick things.**

**Love, Katy.**

_**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**__oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO__oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO__oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

I don't know when it was that I realized the identity of the man in front of me, but at one time or another, as I stared through those dark, arrogant eyes, I saw Charles Walker. He seemed not frightened, but simply _ecstatic _that he was meeting the icy stare of Kate Barlow. She stood in front of me like a hound defending it's kill from three ravenous animals, daring any of them to move, daring them to lay a finger on me.

Linda and Stanley, perhaps a little too late, crash through the brush with the gang of bandits not too far behind. My grandmother seems to have been entirely warned about the current situation, because she strides right beside us and watches the trio of men just as menacingly and intently as Kate. Stanley, however, is still as knowledgeable, but a bit alarmed of the people in front of us. Trout's eyes dim when he sees our new alliances.

"Linda!" he growls vociferously.

This causes Linda to jump. A crooked half-smile returns to his face. "I should have known. You couldn't bear to leave your precious schoolteacher, could you?" he says. My grandmother shrinks between me and the blond, looking like a little, furry, frightened animal.

"Coward," I hiss. "You're a coward."

I shake a little as I hear my own words.

**

* * *

**

**Random Flashback!  
**

* * *

The sky is a endless sea of clear blue as I dig in the brittle earth with a spade. The leafy tree I sit under casts a blanket of dark shade over me.

I am eight years old.I sniffle as the tears drizzling down my face curve around my nose, and then I mop them completely away with my little hand. I shift around on the distorted root I sat on, waiting for someone to come and tell me what would happen next. Waiting for someone to tell me what would become of me now that both my parents, Jack and Hazel Walker, had been killed in a car wreck.

I listen to heavy footfalls approach me on from the front porch. "Lou?"

My shoulders drop and relax when I recognize my grandfather's voice.

"Huh?" I say, my voice groggy and rather guttural. I turn my head down, using my hair as a curtain to shade my face.

He sits down awkwardly, scratching his neck with his fingernails, even though we both know he is not at all itchy. He grunts, and then begins speaking. "I've been thinking, and now that you're mine..."

I wince.

"I've decided to have you dig, just like your Mommy and Daddy."

My eyes burst open wide. "No!"

"Lou Walker! You will dig, because it is your family responsibilities and I said so!" he snarled, shaking my shoulder a bit.

"My parents hated it! I don't want to!"

His grip became tighter, and I jumped up and backed away gradually.

Fresh tears streamed down my face.

"You're a coward," he snapped.

I ran off, sniveling and clutching my stomach. "I want my parents! I hate you, Grandpa!"

"You'll never win. You will dig."

I stopped before slamming the door, turning back. My voice cracking, I said six last words.

"Some things are worth fighting for."

SLAM!

I left my grandfather there, with his hands balled into fists.

**_

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_**

A loud voice snaps me out of my trance. "COME HERE!" Trout barks, as if he is calling a disobedient dog rather than his wife. She flits to his side, her eyes filled with guilt as she joins the side of the law, staring at her beloved outcasts.

"You know why you should be ashamed, Barlow?" said one of the darkly-dressed men sadistically, circling Kate with his hands tucked behind his back. He grins. "You've been on the wrong side of the law, and now you're going to pay. You shouldn't have treated a highly-respected police official such as myself the way you did."

Kate snorted. "You 'ain't highly-respected, you're just a snobby…"

"Taco!" Linda suddenly shouts. During this time, Kate screams a very naughty word at the top of her lungs.

The man's eyes filled with surprise, and his face went crimson. Trout looked as if he were about to have a manly giggle fit. "Why you little…" The man's hand veered back, and I knew he was about to slap Kate. My fists balled up at my sides, until each knuckle was splattered with white.

I didn't care about dumb Jake, and I won't let poofy underpants steal my dignity. I am Lou Walker. I am fearsome and know everything.

_Slap._

Kate's hair sprayed to the right as his straightened hand slammed into her right cheek. My teeth loudly snap together, and the man meets my eyes.

"Did I hurt your little friend?" he says tauntingly.

"Excuse me?"

All of a sudden, my fist grew a mind of its own and punched him in the stomach.

Trout grabs Linda's waist and pulls both of them back, scared for his pretty little life. The man's partner gasps, while about four of the five male outlaws chuckle. Ted didn't, of course. The man looks like Marion after I scratched him after he reported the disappearance of his dumb sunflower seeds. I feel horribly proud of myself.

"SEIZE THOSE OUTLAWS!"

"What the-?!" Slim shrieks from behind Jake.

"EEH-HERM!" I choke.

"And, uh… Her!"

The man-in-black grabs Kate and me while Trout still spins around with Linda, scared like a little girl.

"THE OTHERS WILL COME, CLYDE!" he yells to his partner, his eyes wild and almost crossed. "THEY ARE NOTHING WITHOUT THEIR LEADER!"

"Excuse me?" I say in a dull, soft-spoken voice. The unnamed man uncannily reminded me of Pendanski, who was weak and short. I towered over him as he screamed.

Kate's gang stands there, occasionally blinking and terribly confused.

Clyde tears forward with a coil of rope, and he yanks our wrists back and ties them together.

"Ow!" Kate complains. She tries to bite him.

Everyone is in complete hysterics.

A man yells something about a "minor" and Stanley is roped, too. He stares at me with confused brown eyes, and mouths the words, "What's happening?"

Kate's screaming and all the commands, all the shouts, fade in my ears. The rope is tightened and interlaced between the man's fingers so he can keep Kate restrained. Everything begins to spin, twist left and right and I feel sick to my stomach. Linda peers at me from behind her husband.

"Lou?"

You'll never guess what happened then.

I fainted.

**_

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LINDA'S POV_**

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_**

The garble of words around me thickens when Lou falls to the ground.

The teenage boy, Stanley, stumbles back in surprise. I pity for him as his arms are bound with rope to keep him restrained, though this entire time he hasn't been the least bit menacing. His chocolate eyes meet mine.

My friends are being arrested, and I'm only standing, helpless, on the side.

"'Git your hands off me!" Kate yells.

"You might as well stop," Trout jeered from next to me. "You're only making it harder on yourself."

Kate didn't stop. She believed there was still something fighting for; she always did. I guess I had whimpered softly, because Trout tightened his hold on me, not out of love and protection, but rather because he didn't want me to escape to the other side, the side that I truly did believe I belonged. I wasn't feeling faint, but my head spun in a blur.

Kate's gang was being arrested, too: John, Jake, Jessie, Slim, Ted…. The men I barely knew but seemed like dear friends. They weren't fighting, not like Kate, and not confused at what was happening, like Stanley. Looking closely at each of them, I realized they had almost a look of relent in their eyes.

The horses are wrangled from the campsite. I am allowed to ride Blossom, while Trout mounts a horse of his own, Kate in front of him in the saddle, secured tightly in one of his arms. Lou is still unconscious, riding with one of the police officials, as they called themselves. We ride silently and at a snail's pace; the gang must follow behind on foot.

Kate's cloth bag is tossed to me, and I am told to keep it safe and away from its owner. I hold it gently in front of me as if it is criminal evidence that is to be held with immense care.

Scenery passes by and I watch it on my left rather than having to watch solemn Kate and Trout and his cocky expression on my right. We pass a flowering shrub or two now and then, a dead copse, a withered tumbleweed breaking from its roots to be blown about by the wind. We travel east, towards town, staying far from the edge of the emerald lake.

We arrive at the old jail. Cells kept by ancient iron bars filed the left side of the room, the center being a large desk, and doors and cabinets are on the right. Photos and a large moose head, hats hanging on its antlers, hang on the front wall along with stools on the floor. Kate is thrown in a cell of her own, being in "a precarious state", and the gang is together, in the largest cell. Stanley and Lou are in a cell diagonal from the men, and next to Kate.

I sit mutely next to Trout, trying to engross myself in watching the dust collecting on the desk. I pull a petite handkerchief from Kate's bag, and I draw my name in cursive by wiping it across. Lou lifts her head up, and her face goes red. Her eyes scan the secluded jail, and she wraps her long arms around her legs, leaning against the wall. Stanley quietly cheers when he sees her conscious. She gives him an automatic ugly stare. When her eyes meet mine, the stare gets even uglier.

I look down.

I pull a stack of little white papers bound with twine out of Kate's bag, and I undo the bow and flip through them. They were all letters to addressed to Sam. Almost every one of them read, "Forgive me, for I have done something wrong…" somewhere in them, and they were all written like diary entries. Tied on the back was a map, the head titled, "Mines." It was on an aged paper and written in dark ink. The focal point was the mountain, and a long railroad winded around the western side, the side opposite of Greenlake. Scrawled in around the peak was a little place titled, "Sam's Onion Field." The place Kate and I had been all those years….

Trout shifts and I messily fold the map and tie the twine, stuffing the papers back in the bag.

Lou's head slowly comes up. "Walker?" she asks softly. Both Trout and I look up, and though she is smiling all too sweetly, her eyes are dark. I cringe.

"What?" Trout barked.

"He has a question." She points to Stanley, and then she goes back to resting her head on her knees.

Trout narrows his eyes at the dark-haired boy.

"What are we gonna do now?" Stanley asked him.

Lou snorted. "Play games."

Trout groaned, and then scratched his head. "I don't know. Ask the marshal. I reckon you're gonna hang for what you've done, though." He smirks, watching the blond staring towards the single window on the north side of the jail. Her head half-turns and the one blue eye I can see focuses on my husband, a light gold shimmer thrown from her hair as the light hits it.

"I ain't afraid of you," she whispers.

Stanley and the men peer up at her. Lou scoots herself over towards Kate's cell, where a bit of sunlight dips in on the left side of her ginger hair, but the rest of her is a svelte silhouette.

"I wouldn't be talking like that if I were you. You ain't gonna win," Trout said to Kate. He scooted his chair back and casually propped his feet up on the desk.

Lou's eyes turned towards him. She shook her head.

"Some things are worth fighting for."

**_

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	17. Jailbreak

**Dear Most Faithful Emkat97 Who Has Kindly Reviewed Me Several Times: PLEASE DON'T HAVE A HEART ATTACK! (I would hate being responsible for almost killing you. :) *Attempts to shove the official "Thank You For Reviewing Me" badge thingy through the computer screen*. Please, people, please, call me Katy. The councilor called me Kathryn and it freaked me out. (BUT Kate Barlow's real name is Katherine, too!) *Smells new short-sleeved grey sweater*Ahhh… The joys of getting reviews. You rock, girlfriend! (Ummm… This chapter is in honor of you, AGAIN!) TEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!  
*Types chapter***

**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
LINDA'S POV**

_Poke._

"What?" Trout's head slowly cranes towards me. I study the black bags under his eyes.

"Can we sing songs?" I ask.

"Yeah, whatever." He puts his head back on the desk.

"DO YOU LIKE WAFFLES? YEAH, I LIKE WAFFLES…."

"Not _that_," he grumbles.

"THE WHEELS ON THE BUS GO ROUND AND ROUND! ROUND AND ROUND! ROUND AND ROUND!" I throw myself into automatic singing mode, screaming the lyrics of that song I learned on the TV…

"What are you doing?"

"Umm… Torturing the prisoners!"

"What kind of nut job wrote that song?"

"Michael Jackson."

"Really?"

"No."

I fidget with my sleeve a little, and then turn my head to the right, towards the cells. Stanley stares at me with those nervous, depressed eyes, and Lou is back to having her head on her knees. The gang is chatting a little, trying to sit as comfortable as possible, while Kate lies down on the wooden cot, her hair splayed out in a golden veil behind her head. She murmurs incoherent things. I see Jake's fingers stretching a little through the iron bars into her cell, and his eyes turned her way as he listened to the conversation.

There is a loud squealing noise as my chair chirrs against the grainy floor. Once I have scooted to the end of the desk, I duck to the side.

"What are you doing now?"

I stay silent.

"I can see you," he says.

I sigh, pursing my lips together. "Can I talk to the people?"

"Umm… Sure." It sounded more like a question.

I stand back up and dust the grimy filth that had collected on my dress off. Lou watches me with suspicious eyes, her mouth twisted into a waved line. I sit cross-legged in front of the cells, gaining the attention of Stanley, the gang, and, perhaps, Kate. She had flipped herself over to where she was facing my direction, but she looked rather inattentive.

"Hey," I say softly.

"Wazzup, traitor?" Lou snaps. Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms brusquely.

"What is it going to take for you to forgive me?" I whine.

"Get us out of this he-"she cuts off as I give a "disapproving grandmother" look.

"_Excuse me_. H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks hole. Distract that loon and get us out. Kate's in the depths of despair over there. She's ashamed of herself."

"I can't without Trout seeing."

Everyone pauses, thoughtful expressions forming on their faces.

"HEY!" Stanley yells, his tanned face lighting up. "You can send him on an errand, and then break us out before he comes back."

Kate shakes her head. "He's too guarded. He'll know what we're up to. It was suspicious enough when Linda asked to speak to us, and this'll just seem like an unstructured plan, even to someone as _brainless _as him."

"Can you think of anything better, Kate?"

"We can always shoot him."

"Crafty," Stanley agrees.

"NO!" I squeal.

"They took away the guns, idiot," Lou says to the blond. Kate's face scrunches up, and I doubt she's ever been called an idiot before. She turns away crossly.

"Guess what?" I say. Everyone turns their attention to me. "If we don't get a plan figured out, all of you are going to hang."

Stanley's eyes grow wide, and his expression is apprehensive. Lou glances up at me, all her agitating sarcasm vanishing. "But-"she squeaks.

"That's right, my friend, you'll never see your car again."

Her eyes grow wide.

"And it will be _very _sad and dirty without you."

"No! My car!"

"Alright, then. Stop with the sarcasm and we can all get out of here. Who has a plan?" My eyes scan the hushed people.

"Do _you _have a plan, Miss Authoritarian?" Kate says, her voice dripping with venom.

"One more comment such as that and you shall sit in the corner, Katherine Barlow!" Slim says. Kate rolls her big cerulean eyes, huffing. Stanley raises his hand.

"Yes, Stanley?"

"You all sound so dumb complaining. We can break out easily. I know _why_ we can break out easily."

"Why?"

"Trout is asleep."

We all turn to my husband. His hat shades his tan face and closed eyes, and his dark brown hair is frayed from shifting his head on the chair. His chest moves up and down evenly and, occasionally, he lets out a light snore.

"Linda," Kate whispers. "See if you can find the keys to the cells. They should be on the top of the desk. Be careful not to wake him."

I shrug. "He's a heavy sleeper."

But I do crawl, cautious, to the side of the desk. Slowly I peek up, nabbing the keys from next to a stack of papers. I hold them in a tight fist so they don't jingle, and I crawl back.

"Good," Kate says. "Now unlock Lou and Stanley's cell."

I put the keys in the lock, and slowly, I turn them. With a tiny cracking noise, the iron-barred door opens. Lou and Stanley slide out.

"I'm FREE!" Stanley cheers.

"I'm coming, baby!" Lou squeals happily. Stanley and I look at her.

"You are very weird," I accuse. _And obsessed with your car.  
_  
"Excuse me?"

Just then, the keys slip out of my clammy hands and clatter onto the floor. Trout's head flies up, and he is intently alert.

"Ha! Who? Wha-. LINDA!" he yells.

He leapt to his feet, pulling the fawn-colored hat he was wearing up where it should be. His eyes rivet on me and he springs forward.

"Go!" Kate commands. "Get out of here before he catches you!"

"But-"I argue.

"GO!"

Stanley heads for the door, dragging a dazed Lou behind him. I just stand there, staring at my best friend pointing furiously at the doorway.

"I can't leave you," I say in a small voice.

"If something happens to me, you have Lou. She loves you… Just go! You'll be fine!"

The thing that bothers me most is that she doesn't at all mind her own safety.

My feet absent-mindedly take me towards the door, and I join my friends on the escape.

I notice Trout has stopped chasing us. He knows he has no chance.

"I don't mind them," he tells Kate. "The redhead and the boy haven't done anything wrong. Besides, I don't want to hurt my wife trying to get them." Trout leans on the bars, smirking at the blond and her gang. "But _you_ are who I want. Next up for you…"

Lou and Stanley still tug on my arm. I stumble along, out the door, but I manage to hear the last few words:

"You will hang by the neck until dead."

"_Kate_…"

**

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	18. The Most Cliché Thing

**Sorry I had that mini-cliffhanger thing and didn't update for a while. My little cousin, Garrett, demanded to go to the Little House on the Prairie in Independence, Kansas, and everyone only agreed to go on the lengthy road trip because it was pure family time. But, not to worry my friends, the hotel was a beautiful, little-populated inn with a luxurious suite with a pool with a waterfall. They also had…. *drum roll*…. FREE WI-FI! MUAHAHAHA! *Sighs* Good times… Good times...  
On to the chapter! *Types***

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_LOU'S POV**

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We ventured far from the environs of Greenlake.

Stanley strode next to me, asking simple questions as we went along. Linda, however, stayed deep in thought, jadedly dragging behind with the face of a kicked puppy. It was as if her personality had wilted; she was abnormally quiet and slow.

As I walked, I waited, waited for the true Linda to fly out in an explosion of annoying happiness.

"What do you think is wrong with her?" Stanley questions. He peers back at the drooping redhead.

I shrug.

"She wasn't like that at the jail."

I shrug again, only because I can't think of an explanation for Linda's downhearted behavior.

"Can you say something? I feel like I'm talking to a rock."

"Excuse me?"

Robotically, Stanley straightens himself up at the sound of the two words, but he continues to complain about my muteness. "A sassy rock, then."

"I don't know, okay?" I kick a dusty blue-grey rock as I step by, noting that I am _much_ more progressive than it, thank you very much. "She's probably upset because we had to leave Kate behind. I think she thinks she won't make it out okay. They've been friends a _long_ time, y'know?"

It was then I realized I had been talking too loud.

Linda stopped in her tracks, then loudly snapped, "She saved me. I should have saved her."

"What the heck are you talking about, Leonard?"

She starts walking again, this time at our sides. "I'll tell you… later."

"Jeez. I hate when people say that."

"Well, it was none of your business."

"Well, you said it out loud."

"Well, it was still none of your business."

"Well…"

"Oh Lou…" Linda snarled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your mother would be so proud that you are acting like such an ignorant fool."

"Well…_Michael Jackson_ would be so proud that _you _are acting like such an ignorant fool."

Stanley dragged on like a nervous chicken behind us, sensing a fight. "So… Uh… Where are we going? A place? Oh, that's nice… I wonder where we're going…. Let's sing! You like singing, don't you Linda? Don't you?" He tried desperately to get our attention.

We did turn around, staring at the teenager biting his pale lower lip.

"The mines," Linda responded.

I wanted to say, _'Well who made you captain of this ship_?' but another argument might give the poor, dumb boy a heart attack. "Do we know how to get there?" I asked instead.

Linda paused, pulling a battered, sepia-toned map out of the cloth bag that hung around her gaunt shoulders. She smoothed it out and pointed to certain places. "The mines start here and end here. At the ending point there is a camp even _safer _than the camp Kate and her gang were. It also has an overhang overlooking the certain spot the gallows are at." At the word 'gallows' her face darkened, and her hands twitched, causing the delicate piece of paper to quiver. "All the seriously condemned prisoners, the ones with the 'dead or alive' wanted posters, usually hang there, like Trout said. We have to hurry if we want to save Kate, the boys, and get that lipstick tube and get us home. Our plan goes smoothly, and we don't mess up history as it is.

"Now, before we reach the entrance, we must stop at the onion grove. Those mines are infested with yellow-spotted lizards, and trust me, not a single one is like Rosie Posies."

Rosie… My mind jolted to Kate's snuggly, poisonous pet.

"Where _is_ Rosie?" I inquire.

Linda sighs. "With Kate, I guess." She goes back to being the kicked puppy.

Then she explodes: "OR ME!!!"

A very wiggly Rosie crawls out of her pocket, probably wondering why her name was being screamed. She snorted and eyed her very favorite Aunt Lou that she just couldn't _wait _to pee on.

"Hi, Rosie," Stanley squeals. I could tell he wanted badly to pet her scaly back, but, like me, was freaked out about the whole venom thing.

She cocked her head and sprung to my face. She licked my nose, then dropped to my shoe, where she happily squatted and peed. "How dare you, Rosemary Barlow! Shame, shame!" I scolded, just like Kate had once instructed me to do when the lizard did such diabolical things. Linda laughed and picked her back up.

"Ohhh…" she cooed. "Hello, sweetheart! Does the pretty lizard miss her mommy?"

_Touch me again and I'll kill you, _thought Rosie evilly.

"CUTIE!"

_I have venom! HISS!_"I thought you said we had to _hurry_," I complained.

Stanley caressed Rosie's tail once, then stood by my side, waiting for Linda to check the map and tell us where we were going. Once Linda returned the lizard to her place in the deep pocket of her dress, she led us to a curve.

My grandmother had seemed to gain her utter happiness back.

"Let's sing an expedition song!" Linda cheered. "OOOOOOOOOH…"

"No, no," I argued. "You'd better save your breath."

Stanley quickly nodded in agreement.

We all walked, momentarily, in silence, blinking and staring at each other to try and figure out who was going to speak next. To get an easy conversation started up, I shoved Stanley.

"Hey!"

"Umm… Sorry?"

Linda shook her head in disapproval. "During this mountain trip we will all take an oath. No profanity or hitting, kicking, shoving, licking, inappropriate touching…"

"I, Lou Walker, swear not to take this oath."

"C'mon. We'll all be happier!"

"Excuse me?"

"You are really good at finding the absolute most random times to say that," Stanley said, laughing like a moron.

"_Excuse me_?"

"I, Stanley Yelnats, take this oath or something like that."

"Good job, Stanley," Linda congratulates.

"Fine. I Lou Walker won't say offensive things or beat up people."

Linda nodded merrily, and then turned to the curly-headed boy rubbing his throbbing shoulder. "I have a question for you, Stanley."

"Okay. Hit me."

So I did.

"Oh my God…zilla!" he complained. "Stop, I say! Stop!"

"LOU!" screamed Linda. "YOU TOOK THE OATH AND YOU SHALL OBEY IT!"

My eyes went from Stanley, who was now swearing to himself he'd be friends with everyone and just accept that I was naughty, to Linda, who now suspiciously reminded me of a tomato with anger management problems.

"Shame to me. Shame to me," I agreed curtly. Linda narrowed her eyes.

"Wait a second," Stanley said. "Didn't you have a question for me Linda? I mean, before Lou hit me?"

"Oh, yes. Tell me the story of how you dug up the treasure. It'll make time pass."

Over my dead body! "No! _No_! He'll tell it wrong… And… And… It'll bring up bad memories!"

Linda disregarded my argument. "You will see other sides of the story, Lou."

"Okay, okay," Stanley said. "I'll start here…

"Well, X-Ray, one of the guys, had told me that if I ever found something, I'd have to give it to him because I had only been there for a short time, and he had been there a while and had never found anything. And he was pretty much the leader of the tent, y'know? Well, I was digging in my hole and saw something shiny catch the light. Then nobody really knew what it was. People suggested it was like a shotgun shell or something, and nobody could figure out what the initials engraved on the side were: KB. The next morning, X turned it into Mom, our counselor…"

"Was Mom really someone's mom?"

"No, he's a dude."

"Oh."

"Well, anyways, Mom called up THE WARDEN… Duh duh DUH! And she was all like… _Excuse me? Excuse me? You get in this here truck and you will have to whole day off. I'm gonna kill you, Pendanski, if you don't give these kids water. Excuse me_? And X got the day off. And we all had to dig around his hole and see if he could find anything else, and the Warden was watching us, and personally, she was kind of freaking me out…"

I sighed. This was my punishment for hitting him.

"Well, anyway, the point is, she had us digging A LOT. Meanwhile, I started teaching my friend, Zero, who's name is Hector, how to read, and in exchange for reading lessons, he helped me dig my hole, because man, this boy could DIG!"

"Okay, Mr. Storyteller. Just tell the woman how you found the treasure," I murmured.

"Oh. So I guess, from now on, I'll skip a lot of parts. So the adult people found out and then Hector hit Pendanski in the head and ran away. Then this guy named Twitch came in his place, and he was sent there for stealing a car. Well, to save Zero, I stole Mr. Sir, the Warden's evil sidekick,'s car, and I tried to go off into the desert. But it crashed into a hole. Well, anyway, I did escape, and I found Hector under an old boat called the 'Mary Lou' with a bunch of jars of really old peach stuff…"

Linda laughed. "Those were Kate's spiced peaches. She made them when she was a teacher."

"Cool! So we saw this mountain in the distance, and we called it God's thumb, which is what my great-grandfather called it after he found refuge on it when Kate robbed him. So we climbed up that and ate onions, and Hector told me had stolen the sneakers I got sent here for, and it was all destiny… Well, I knew KB stood for Kate Barlow, and that what the Warden had us digging for was in the hole I found the tube in.

"So we dug one last hole. We found the treasure together, and we were covered in the yellow-spotted lizards, but we didn't die because we had eaten the onions. And then the Warden…"

I cut him off. "Yeah! They found the treasure. Good… We don't have to hear the rest, Stanley…"

Though she winced when Stanley said he found the treasure, Linda seemed to have enjoyed Stanley's dumb story.

"But, wow…" I said. "We would have just found the treasure if you had turned the tube in instead of X-ray? Like, we would have the right hole?"

"Yep!" Stanley said gleefully. "So you've seen another side?"

"Sure. Where does X-Ray live again?"

"Lou…" Linda scolded.

"Fine," I told her.

"Oh… And there was my No-Good-Dirty-Rotten-Pig-Stealing…" Stanley started.

"We've heard enough, Yelnats!" I growl.

Stanley smiled. "And now we're all together."

"Oh, _joy_."

Linda wrapped her gangly, freckly arms around Stanley and me both. "I love you guys," she concluded as she dodged running us all off the side of a cliff.

* * *

Stanley and I were nearly breathless and just about to lose consciousness when we reached the trail that lead to the sound of trickling water on the left. Linda, on the other hand, pranced in circles as I sat down, cross-legged, and Stanley rolled onto the dirt.

"Alright… Let's… Get… Water… Please…" he sputtered.

I patted his head. "Sure. But I ain't carrying you."

He struggled to haul himself up, stumbling along behind us on the dusty path.

"What?" I teased. "Used to a rich boy's life?"

Stanley sighed, staring at his unevenly-moving feet.

"Lou," Linda said protectively, "Stanley here isn't the only one here who has been torn away from his money. I know what it's like."

"At least he gets it back," I grumble. Then I grin evilly. "_If _you get back."

"That was our treasure," Linda whines.

"Well, no… It's his money, I guess," I say. "It was just underground for a hundred years because a lunatic woman on a rampage stole it and tossed it in a hole."

Stanley laughed dryly. "You'll never really forgive her, will you?"

"I make her do dishes." I let out an evil laugh.

"And hey, I'm not the only one this mountain has been hard on," Stanley snickers and points to my beloved fingernails.

The red had almost entirely chipped off, and dust and some grotesque, alien green stuff had stuffed between them. I let out a shrill squeak, causing Linda to turn around and inspect.

"ONIONS HO!" Stanley announces in a deep voice.

We glance up to see the peaceful meadow of tiny off-white flowers, and the little babbling stream feeding into the pool of rather dirty water. I breathe in the earthy scent, and I immediately uproot a sweet onion. "Dig in," I command. "Unless you want rabid lizards to kill you."

We all sit side-by-side on a dust-blanketed boulder, stripping off the layers of the onions and crunching into them. Rosie's head peeked out, her tiny black eyes curious as they focused on the white-lavender vegetable. Though Texas yellow-spotted lizards were sickened by onions, this one had gotten quite used to them.

"Okay…" I say. "So when we get back to our time, am I going to get turned into the cops for stealing a kid by your parents? I'm really not feeling like getting put in jail again. It's not a happy place for Lou."

"They're out of town for three weeks, and I'm supposed to be finding friends or family members to stay with. They probably think I'm with Hector or somebody. I can make up excuses."

"Goody. I was hoping you'd say that."

"Yeah. Pretty convenient, right? I was just sitting on the couch, staring at the lipstick tube when I got zapped to a place with creepy people wearing dresses and stuff."

"And how did you get my half of the lipstick tube, again?"

"When the police were looking through your stuff I got to keep it."

"That's disturbing."

"And Kate has the other half of the lipstick tube?"

"Yep."

"How will we use it to get back to our time?"

"We'll try to connect them. That sounds most logical, I guess."

"Are we done with our onions, people?" Linda asks.

"Uh… Yeah. Can we put some in your bag, just in case?" Stanley points to the cloth bag hanging from Linda's shoulders.

"Oh… Sure. It's actually Kate's. They gave to me when she was arrested." She stuffed about five or six onions in the bag, and then led down a straight, grassy hill walled with ivy-blanketed marble-grey stone. Looking at it, it seemed so familiar, but I couldn't remember just when I'd seen it.

"Watch your step, Lou," Linda said. Though a sweet smile crossed her light, rosy lips, a slight sadness glazed over her eyes as she scanned her surroundings.

Then I realized…

This was the hill I had fallen down when I'd met Kate and Linda. A mirage set in at the end of the slope: A confused Lou tumbling down to the feet of two mysterious girls, a redhead smiling warmly, and a skinny, almost frightened blond watching her with guarded blue eyes, blue eyes that had seen far too many things in her lifetime…

I was taken back then, back before I knew who they were, back before I had promised Kate I would protect her…

Linda sighed, and I squeezed her hand.

"I miss her, too," I whispered.

* * *

Stanley slowly lowered the map to examine the wide, deep-set cave mouth in front of him.

"The Mines," he said, and it echoed and bounced though the solid walls.

"That isn't a mine," I say, my mouth hanging ajar. "It's a Hole of Death."

"Well," said Linda blissfully, already walking through the dim cavern. "It's one of those mines with the carts and stuff that people in movies go flying off cliffs in because dynamite is exploding behind them…"

"Don't even say that," I murmured. "Number one: It's freakishly cliché. Number two: You're scaring me. I don't want to go through this place. There's another way to get to this place overlooking the gallows, right?"

"Nope. This is the only way through!"

"Crap."

"NO PROFANITY!"

As Stanley passes, he laughs at me. I childishly stick my tough out at him.

"This place isn't _too _abandoned, right? I mean, there are creepy torches lighting the place." Stanley eyes the dancing orange flames suspending from old wooden pots on the walls. A flimsy, ghostly whisper hisses through down the stone pathway, afterwards summoning an abrupt wind to softly touch our faces. Stanley holds my hand.

"I will snap your wrist if you don't release," I warn softly.

"It was a ghost," he whispers, his voice chills.

"You'd rather see a ghost than deal with me if you don't stop holding my hand."

"Sorry, Lou."

My attention catches a flicker of dark ginger hair illuminated in the firelight. "Hey! What are you doing now?"

A pale, delicate hand picks up one of the torches. "I'm taking one. It will lighten the path, and it will protect us if we need it."

"Protect us?" Stanley asks.

"Just in case."

"Yes," I say, eyeing Stanley. "A beastly miner that died here comes back in the form of living dead to seek revenge… and food. Just if you see him, his eyes are white, and his skin is so tight it barely fits over his bones… Those zombies, they get the littlest one first. Linda will toss you the torch."

The kid looks as if he's about to faint. "Is this because I didn't let you look in the chest?"

"Pretty much." I laughed and skipped ahead of him. "And, just in case you're wondering, never imitate me again."

"It would get Linda, anyways. I think she's the smallest."

He was right; when I look at them, I see they are the same height, and Linda has a thinner waist. Her free hand, the right one, swings around absent-mindedly. "I could fight him off. HI-YA! If Kate were here, she could fight him. She has a gun! BOOM! BOOM!"

Yes, Linda. Boom, boom.

Though Stanley is pretty convinced I made it all up on the spot, he looks around nervously. "Linda, what were _you _thinking we'd have to fight off?"

"Animals, I guess. Remember that I told you yellow-spotted lizards colonize here?" She laughs. "I really wasn't thinking about zombies, but now I'll have keep my eye out for 'em."

Stanley glowers as he walks past me, then weasels his way between us so he's right behind Linda. He engrosses himself in playing with a lock of her hair.

"Lookie! A cart!" Linda squeals. "Get in everyone!"

The top part looks a bit rotted, and when Linda rolls it around, it chirrs and groans.

"No thanks," I say. "I really don't feel like dying today."

She turns around and shoots me an ugly face. "Would you rather stand here and complain and let Kate die, or maybe risk getting a few scratches and save her?"

I wince.

"Okay," I say. "We won't all fit in one. You and Stanley take the front and I'll take the rear, so I'll be safer. Go team!"

"No!" Linda snaps. "We could get separated. Besides, I know what you're trying to do. Get in here."

We fit into one, everyone having a little room to shift. Linda waves around the torch like a banner.

Stanley and I squish together, scooting away from her. "Whoa there, Leonard. Put it down. You're gonna set you on fire, and, most importantly, you're gonna set me on fire."

"It's dark down there," she argues.

"Just keep it away from us."

"Oh, I should," Linda says. "I might set the dynamite on fire."

I snort. "What did I tell you? That is absolutely the most cliché thing in the book. Don't worry about it."

"LET'S GO!" she screams, then pushes us off.

It curves had it going pretty fast, but it was nothing wild and roller-coaster-like similar to the cart rides in the movies. Stanley cocked his head to the side to avoid being beaten with red hair. "Whoo-hoo!" he howls, flailing his arms.

At times, Linda's torch elucidated glistening crystals lodged in the walls. I smiled the entire time, watching numerous things fly by. Suddenly, there was a huge drop. Not expecting it at all, we all screamed and tried to avoid falling out. Linda, so caught up in trying to save herself, dropped the flaring torch.

In slow motion, it all happened.

We all turned our attention to the flame crashing on the floor. The light caught a single wire, and tiny sparks flew up, zipping around until it hit a red stick.

…A red stick?

"DYNAMITE!" Stanley yelled.

"Wait!" I yelled. "No!"

"I told you this would happen, Lou!"

Then, at that moment, the most cliché thing in the entire world happened.

An earsplitting _crack! _thundered through the cavern. Fiery flits of light came up like firecrackers. "Go, you fool!" I command.  
Linda pushes us off down another hill before the main explosion happens.

A golden orange puff of smoke sends us flying faster. A hot gust nips at the back of my head as deadly dazzles fly behind us. I saw it, in front of me…

The light. The end. The escape.

Could we make it?

If I died, I would blame Linda.

…But we couldn't die. We had to save Kate.

"Go faster, Linda! Try!"

She tries to push us faster, and in a wave of relief, we drop down the final hill out of the mines, just beating the dynamite.  
A frizz of flames shoot out the back as Linda stops the cart.

It is quiet.

It is very quiet.

"That. Was. Awesome." That was all Stanley said.

"No. It. Wasn't," I breathed. "We could have all died."

Linda jumps out, sweeping back her hair, which was layered in fine tan dust. "Lou was right. I shouldn't have brought that torch." I smile in satisfaction. "But, Lou, I did tell you it could happen."

"Oh, all right. It was cliché and unexpected, but it happened."

She brushed the dust off my hair, then helped both Stanley and I out. "Now let's go find that place, eh?"

"Sure, Lin. Let's go."

As we walk under a small cluster of trees, Linda gathers a very wiggly Rosie out of her pocket. She stroked her head and asks her, in a high-pitched coo, if she was all right.

The side of the mountain forms a wall on the eastern side of us, shading us partly as we walked. Noticing the unmistakable effects of a drought, I knew we were dipping back into Greenlake. Hardly anything was the total verdant green I had once seen on our journey, and little plants had gone limp. The everlasting heat hadn't yet taken its toll on the lake itself, but the greenery around it.

Suddenly, Rosie began furiously squirming in Linda's hand. The redhead let out a squeal as she dashed brusquely out of her hand, sharply making a turn behind a clutter of bracken.

"Rosie!" Linda yelled.

We all made a turn into the large ferns, chasing the lizard unto a dusty trail lined with overhanging dead trees. Finally, Linda, being ever-charged and impeccably fast, dove down and caught her. Stanley and I gasped, and it had nothing to do with my grandmother sprawled on the ground with a reptile in her hand.

"Wow. I was comin' to find out what that big explosion was all about… But who the heck are all you people?"

I looked up to see a slender woman wearing jeans and a ruffled black shirt staring at us with bottomless, olive green eyes. Long, chocolate-brown curls tumbled down her back from a light-colored cowboy hat shading her pale face and soft pink cheeks. A humored smile played at her lips.

"I'm going to ask you again… Who are you?" she said.

"I'm not local," Stanley says softly. "And they… They're the Greenlake Girls."

"The Greenlake Girls," she repeated, the smile growing even wider. "Pleasure to meet 'ya."


	19. Basil

**R/R-ing and gummy worms are LOOOVE!  
I check my e-mail every five seconds just to see if I have a review and I LIVE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL REVIEWS! Pleeeeease, review!  
(I had to rewrite this chapter three times, twice because it totally got deleted because of my darn, evil computer. Complain of these words and I shall stab you with a butter knife, which doesn't hurt at all.)  
Since it has been exactly eighty nine years since I updated, remember where I left off Stanley, Linda and Lou were on their way to find Kate and found a random lady on the trail.**

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Then, somehow, I found it impossible to look into those inquiring eyes, the bruised emerald shade. Instead I focused on the way the mist spilled through the trees; the lifeless birch branches like thick, silvery webs against the dusk breaking on the horizon. The darkness coming in made the sky look like the stormy sea, colored of midnight and royal blue against tiny tints of dark greens and grays. But, I realized, as the brunette's eyes burned into mine, she yearned to throw more questions at me.

Her sun-tanned arm lifted out, asking for someone, anyone, to shake her hand. "Basil Monroe," she introduced. Her accent had the odd chime of a Southern Belle and a female gangster, the way it was light and slurred at the same time.

Linda, naturally, took it and shook it eagerly. "Linda Walker! She's Lou Walker, and he's Stanley Yelinats."

"_Yelnats_," Stanley corrected, an amused half-smile crossing his face. "Yelnats is Stanley spelled backwards."

Basil beamed. "Well ain't that just weird! I thought it was funny how you two red hair girls look so much the same. So… you're related. What, sisters?"

"Cousins," I lied.

"Your hair is pretty. Sorta like red cinnamon or burnt ginger. Your eyes are cool, two. What is that called… hazel? All those colors remind me of the season autumn, like the falling leaves..." The way she spit out the conversation reminded me of Linda, though Basil Monroe was quite serene. Perhaps she was just curious, and she had a lot to say because she was still just meeting us. Her eyes focused on me… again. "You're sure _tall_. That's good, though. I hate being short and all."

I just nodded. "Kate hates being short, too," Linda blurts suddenly.

It comes out so naturally, and then I saw the surprised look in Basil's eyes.

Crap. (_I don't care about Linda's rules_.)

"Kate?" Basil says.

"Yeah! Kate Barlow! Like, Kissin' Kate Barlow!"

QUIET, YOU!

"You _know _her, Splenda?"

"It's Linda, actually. Kate is one of my best friends in the whole wide world!"

I stared her down. If looks could kill, Linda Walker would be dead as a doornail, and, for once in her life, she would be quiet.

"She kills people," Basil states, blinking.

It is silent.

"She kisses 'em, too. Or from what I've heard."

"YUP!" Linda squeals.

I choose this time to step on her toe, and whisper in her ear, "Say another word and you shall never eat another muffin again."

Basil nonchalantly tucked her hands in her pockets, pacing around us. "So how'd you folks get out here? Being friends with that outlaw girl, ain't you all criminals?"

I sent an "I'll do the talking" look to both Stanley and Linda, who quickly exchanged glances and nodded.

Biting my lower lip, I told her the story, cutting out the time-traveling insanity and jail breaking, and tying in lies to take its place. "We're not criminals. Honestly. We were just… checking in on Kate and her gang, and we stayed in one spot a little too long…" (I left out the part that it was really all my fault we were found) "…and we all got arrested, except for Linda, because she's Trou… Er, Charles Walker's wife and he told everybody she was innocent of everything. Well, we stayed in jail a while, then Stanley and me were able to leave with Linda, because we were cleared of all charges because we didn't do anything. We just need to help Kate and the gang. They'll be hung for robbery and murder. Please help us." I made a very sad face at the end.

Basil's mouth made an O. "She's THE WALKER'S WIFE? Ain't you all rich and stuff, Lydia? What the heel you doin' here? I'd be buyin' dresses and pretty necklaces…"

At first I didn't get it, then I realized Basil's Southern Belle Gangster accent slurred the cuss words.

"It's _Linda_," Linda murmured, shoving her hands into the little pockets of her dress. She shuffled her feet, sending clouds of dust billowing into the air. "I'd like to make some brief remarks on your language and grammar. See, we've made this oath…"

"You made it, and _forced _us to agree with it, you evil, evil person," I said from behind her.

Basil disregarded my warnings. "What's this oath about?"

"Lou was constantly hurting poor Stanley physically and emotionally," Linda began.

Yes. Poor Stanley Yelnats is devastated for life due to me beating him up and calling him names.

"So," Linda continued, "I made an oath that we would not use profanity or hurt each other in any way. They both agreed to it."

"I still say naughty things in my head," I state proudly.

That... That just didn't come out right...

Basil examined her perfectly manicured nails, causing me to hide mine behind my back. I began picking off the dirt and green stuff, chipping off the paint. I had a tiny bit of a hangnail and considered trying to bite it off, but then realized that doing so, because of the poisonous polish, could possibly kill me, cause my mouth to swell, or eternally damage my digestive system or something like that. "Hey Stanley," I said. "Will you bite this hangnail off?"

"No."

"Darn."

Basil scratched her head, then said she agreed to the oath of doom. I furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head. "Now who's going to hurt Stanley for me?"

"I agree to take Linda's oath, and help you find Kissin' Kassie."

From behind Linda, I snickered.

"That's WONDERFUL!" Linda exploded. "Let's go that way!"

"It's almost dark, moron," I say. "We have to stop for the night."

An infantile frown spread across her face. "DON'T CALL ME NAMES!"

"Yeah, sure."

Basil looked around, her hair; the loose, silky brown spirals, tossing around her face. "Where do you think we should stay? I suggest a nice campsite on the ground…"

"The ground?" I whine.

Stanley smiles. "The ground. I'm scared."

"THERE! THERE!" Linda screeches, jumping up and down and pointing at a gently aslant slope, following up to what I guessed was the peak she had talked about getting to in the mines.

Basil squints, shading her eyes from the blinding sun with her hand. "Isn't that close to where the gallows are?" she inquires, her voice unsure.

"Yup," says Linda gleefully,

"Nope," says Basil.

I see Linda's eyes glaze over with water, and her face wilt to the point it made her look as old as she really was. "B-but… B-b-but… We have to save Kate!"

Defeated by Linda sadness, Basil folds her arms across her chest and says, "Well, it looks nice and dry up there." She cocks her head and tries to determine if it is suitable for her liking.

"Yes, Greenlake is quite dry," I say.

"Fine," she says. Her eyes flicker to all of us, who apparently appeared to be happy-go-lucky and ready for whatever came our way, as long as we could save our friend.

Basil still didn't seem to be going along with the opinions of the majority. I could see she was still staking out a better spot to be as Linda guided us through the pathway of dead and dying trees.

"Shall we attempt to start a fire this fine night?" Linda asks us, tucking her hands to make her posture as fancy as her words.

"A _fire_?" I say. "How the heck could we start a fire?"

Basil finally discontinued scouting around, and a maniac grin spread across her face. "I know how we can start a fire…" she said.

The maniac smile frightened me, and uncannily reminded me of Kate.

I picked up stray people like stray dogs, and so far, not a single one of them was the least bit sane.

* * *

I had just begun getting the idea Linda had no idea where she was going, when she waded through a brush to reveal a nice clearing with a cushy floor of dull green grass and a couple of ash trees bordering a rocky cove as if someone had purposely planted them there.

I realized Greenlake had some pretty spots, and we always ended up in one of them some time or another.

I immediately began deciding where I would sleep, and I selected the cove, which was floored with an especially thick layer of grass. When Basil and Stanley and Linda became engaged in a conversation about fire, I snuck off and began peeling off ash leaves and piling them on the floor to attempt to make a makeshift bed.

Naturally, Linda had to open her big mouth at the exact wrong time.

"Lookie! Lou's making us a bed to sleep in! All right, Lou!"

I stopped piling and glowered at her, collapsing on the bed of leaves.

She shrugged.

"Just make your fire over there," I said. I was about to punch Linda's face in, half because I was utterly exhausted and half from the exasperation of Linda's energy. I decided to keep my tone civil, but my eyes were icy.

Linda took this as a warning.

"I'm just… Saying…" she began.

"Shut…"

"But-"

"Up…"

"But Lou-"

"Shut up."

She turned around, one of her delicate fingers caressing her fiery hair. Then the most pitiful whimper: "O-kay."

"Okay."

Basil, surveying the whole scene, stepped in the middle and said, "Don't be sad."

"But I am," Linda whined.

I sighed.

"Come 'ere, kid," Basil said.

Stanley, who was standing under my ash tree, peered over at her.

"Yeah, kid."

_Shuffle, shuffle._"Come on."

_Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle._"Geez Louise, hurry up."

_Shuffle._Stanley stopped in front of Basil.

"Now, kid. Whenever Lou says something to offend Linda, you pinch her. Okay?"

Stanley vigorously shook his head. "She'll kill me."

"And when Linda says something to insult Lou, I will pinch her."

I furrow my eyebrows in frustration. "_Everything _insults Linda."

"In example," Basil says. She walks nonchalantly over to me and I feel a sharp, stinging pain in my right arm.

"OW!" I yelp.

"HA!" Linda yells.

Beginning to understand, Stanley swiftly goes to pinch Linda.

"Ouchy!" Linda squeals.

"Do we understand?" Basil says.

"Yes, m'am," Stanley says in an obedient monotone. Glancing at Basil, he took his station next to me.

"Continue working," Basil instructed, nodding to Linda and leaning over the fire.

Plucking a young, green leaf, I savagely twirled it around between my long nails. I turned to Stanley, his brown eyes flickering from left to right.

"You won't dare pinch me," I threatened.

"Yes I will," Stanley boldly stated. I heard his voice waver.

I narrowed my eyes.

Stanley swallowed with a _gulp_.

"Linda is stupid."

"I can't believe you said that!" Linda whined.  
_  
Pinch._"CRAP!"

From the corner of my eye, I saw my grandma snickering.

And, one second later, a small flame perked up and I saw the tip of her dress catch fire.

"I really wouldn't be surprised," I said.

* * *

Stars glistened in the vast, open midnight sky.

A crescent moon hung overhead, a soft light lining its snowy white edges. Basil was curled up in the cove, arms wrapped around herself despite the warmth of the night. Stanley, Lin and I were all sprawled across the ground in a line, gazing up at the night sky.

It was open, beautiful, and captivating. The silence dared me to say something…

"My underpants are itchy."

The silence broke.

Stanley giggled.

Linda glanced over disapprovingly at me, but when I smiled her face softened. Suddenly, I felt as though I was staring at my reflection, the long red hair, the hazel eyes, and the pale, freckled skin.

Her hair fell far more down her back than mine. It was straight at the roots, falling in waves and ending in small, languid curls. Her arms were tucked nonchalantly behind her head, but her fingers danced restlessly on the grass. Rosie was perched on her stomach, sleeping.

"Linda…" My stare broke and I looked to my left, where Stanley looked at my grandmother inquiringly.

"Yes?"

"How did you make it all those years, just in the mountains?"

Linda paused, glancing up at the starry sky.

"We weren't just in the mountains."

"You went into town?"

Linda pursed her lips. "Not Greenlake… Everyone there was looking for me. They _thought_ Kate was dead, but there were still doubts because nobody had found her body. We got a hold of a newspaper published after our disappearance. Trout couldn't remember anything from what happened after Kate knocked him out, except for the fact that there was treasure, of course.

"We went a couple of small towns down, practically in the middle of nowhere – to get food that wasn't onions, clothes, and sometimes, just to see people other than each other. Still, we had to disguise ourselves. Kate is actually quite good at dressing herself as a man." She laughed. "People there probably wouldn't notice me, but they would notice Kissin' Kate Barlow.

"We went even less often as the years went on. We almost didn't… fit in… with the modern world. All the cars, those little phones and everything were scary. It also hurt to see everything so different. Everyone we knew had probably passed on…" She abruptly sighed, and her eyes lowered.

Stanley and I exchanged glances. "I'm sorry," he said sympathetically.

"Kate, of course, told me we needed to go ahead and die naturally, like she wanted to, like we were _supposed _to do."

I turned back. "So why didn't you?"

"I wanted to do something first."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"

"I wanted to see Hazel. I wanted to see you, someday."

I stopped, staring at the night sky.

"I never really knew her," Linda whispered rather despondently.

The words hung in the air and slowly faded.

"Who is Hazel?" Stanley asked.

"She's my- she's my daughter."

"And my mother," I added in a soft, raspy tone.

"Oh," he reacted, and dared to ask, "What happened to her?"

I was left to respond when Linda closed her eyes in light pain.

"She died with my dad in a car accident," I said.

"Oh," he said again. "I'm sorry."

I inhaled. "Yeah, me too. Sometimes I wish I was with them when it happened."

"She would have wanted you to have a long life," Linda said, opening her eyes.

"Would she have wanted me to have to dig? She didn't like it. Would she want me to get arrested for doing something my grandpa wanted me to do? No!"

"You didn't _have _to do it, you know," Linda murmured.

I pursed my lips. "I know," I allowed. "When you spend your entire life doing something… I just felt driven to find it. I could have had a much better, happier life if it weren't for that treasure."

"It was all Kate's fault," Linda stated.

I suddenly felt a creepy power of words come over me. "No. My entire life everyone has been blaming everything on everyone else. Yes, _especially _Kate. But do you really think she would have wanted this? All she wanted was to make Trout suffer, only because he made her suffer more than you could possibly imagine. Not me. Not you. Not boys. All Trout does is blame things on her, and everyone else. I'm sure you're too _madly in love, _Mrs. Walker, to realize the blame is utterly, completely, entirely on him."

Then I rolled over, and I went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Linda had a mad ADHD attack, and was up at dawn. When she finally woke me up, I stared at the blushing pink sky and thought hard. The morning was alive and beautiful, but my mind was dark and clustered.

I turned to my right and saw Stanley watching me intently. His brown eyes were apprehensive, and when he caught my gaze, he motioned me to come to him. I got to my feet, and Linda quickly followed.

"What, fool?"

He pointed.

We all crowed together and peered down the side of the cliff.

The warm morning air swelled around me, but immediately frigidness went up my spine, and I stood, frozen at the sight at the base of the mountain.

There was Trout, standing there with vicious eyes.

There were the gallows, crooked and chilling.

Then, then there was Kate.


End file.
